AN: This series is going to be a handful of "missing moments" (all cannon) in the Twilight saga from the perspective of Carlisle and Esme. If you haven't gathered from my previous fics, these two are my absolute OTP and deserved more time in the books. The order will be as follows: New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, and ending with Twilight/Midnight Sun. I'm rereading the series—admittedly very slowly, so apologies in advance for slow updates—and saving Midnight Sun for last, thus the order. Expect plenty of fluff, appearances from the other Cullens, jumps into the past, and Carlisle/Esme lemons.

Chapter One

Book: New Moon

Summary: Carlisle and Esme's hunting trip in Alaska, during spring break at the Denali residence.

"How long will you be gone?" Rosalie asked.

"We're planning on three, maybe four days," Carlisle answered. "I promised Esme I'd take her out for a fancy dinner, so we will have to travel a ways out into the wilderness."

Esme laughed and shook her head, throwing a small backpack over her shoulder with two sets of fresh clothes inside.

"Who knew there were five star restaurants in middle-of-nowhere Alaska," Emmett grinned. "Stay out of trouble."

"I could say the same for you," Esme answered, cocking an eyebrow.

Ever the affectionate mother, she insisted on pulling each of her "children" into a hug, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Rose. All but one, as Edward was still "brooding" (Rosalie's choice of word) in South America.

"Thank you, as always, for your hospitality," Carlisle turned to the members of the Denali coven. "We'll look forward to spending a few more days here upon our return, before we go back to Ithaca."

"It's always a pleasure, Carlisle," Tanya said.

Esme followed her husband out the door, leaping down from the porch of the massive wooden home nestled atop a mountain, and into the snow beside her husband. Despite the low temperature, she was dressed in leggings and a only a light jacket, while her husband wore jeans and a leather coat. The temperature would never bother them, and heavy winter parkas only slowed them down.

"I was thinking we could follow the mountain range southeast," Carlisle said. "I'd like to stay in the high altitude but avoid the National Park."

"I'll follow you, Darling."

Esme let Carlisle lead the way as they ran across the mountain range deep into the Alaskan wilderness, sheltered by the snow-blanketed trees of an expansive forest. They traveled for a couple hours before stopping at the edge of the trees, where the woods broke to overlook a valley between the mountains. Carlisle extended a hand and pulled Esme to his side. Both gazed out over the view, an arm wrapped around the other, until Carlisle touched a gentle finger to her chin and tilted her face to look at his.

"What would you like to do, my dear?" he asked. "Would you like to hunt first, or we could…" here he trailed off, suddenly lost in every familiarity of his wife's face.

She eyed him back, a smirk now on her lips.

"Or we could what, Carlisle?"

He brought tender lips to her forehead, kissing her first before murmuring against her skin.

"Or we could have one another."

Paired hunting trips away from the enhanced eyes and ears of their family was one of the most convenient times to enjoy intimacy. As it wasn't everyday they were away and alone together, they both had planned to take advantage of the fact over these upcoming days, though it had yet to be spoken between them.

"I think I'd like to hunt first…satiate one hunger so I can fully focus on the other." She gazed up at him through thick eyelashes, the smirk still tugging at her lips, eyes promising of what was to come later.

Carlisle chuckled low under his breath, pulling her back to his chest and kissing the top of her head this time.

"I would agree, darling."

Esme's eyes, he would admit, had grown darker with thirst than he liked to see them. It had been years since she struggled with her control around humans, unless there was fresh blood right under her nose. And they were quite unlikely to run into any hikers out here. But he didn't like the thought of the stinging she must feel in her throat. He never wanted her to be uncomfortable.

They continued along the mountain range, racing at an impossible speed but keeping the distance between them close. When they sensed a single moose in a small clearing ahead, Carlisle let Esme have it, stopping to watch her take it down.

Gone suddenly was the soft, gentle woman he knew, and in her place, a skilled predator. The moose barely had time to raise it's head before her stone-like muscles flexed as she launched herself into an impossibly far leap, graceful as it was lethal. White teeth bared, her small hands landed on its antlers, the impact instantly breaking the animal's neck. She somersaulted onto the snow as the body hit the ground, rolling with more ease than any olympic gymnast, before pouncing back onto the animal. Carlisle watched as her teeth pierced the neck, the same lips she used to give him tender kisses now hungrily sucking blood. He stayed back in the shadows of the trees, letting her enjoy her meal.

In Esme's first year as a vampire, seeing her hunt like this had made his stomach drop, a heavy, stone-like guilt weighing it down. He couldn't shake the thought that by his own doing, his selfish desire for her companionship upon seeing her in that morgue, he had turned this woman into a monster. The young woman whose broken leg he mended those ten years ago, who wouldn't hurt a fly, was now staring back at him over the body of a buck, blood running down her chin, smearing her hands and staining her shirt in a deep crimson color.

What have I done? Carlisle thought.

"Am I doing it wrong?" Esme had asked, noticing the unease in his eyes. She was suddenly self conscious of the blood on her skin, and wiped her hands on the already ruined blouse. Like Edward, it took time for her to learn the art of making a clean kill.

"No, not at all," he said, crouching to her side, though the worry never left his eyes.

It took until nearly the end of that first year for Esme to absolve his guilt for saving her. That was the word she always used. She saw this new life as a gift, an opportunity, rather than a curse. She embraced her enhanced strength and abilities, especially after, as she confessed to Carlisle one night, she had felt so helpless for the last years of her human life, victim to her ex-husband's abuse. Most of all, she found great happiness in her newfound companionship with Edward and Carlisle.

Even on that day when she lost control and took her teeth to the neck of a hiker—the first, and unfortunately, not the last time she killed a human—distraught as she was, she never blamed Carlisle for it.

Esme insisted, time and again to the man before her, that she had no regrets for this new life he had given her. Unlike Edward, and later Rosalie, had she been able to make the decision for herself, she assured him this is exactly what she would have chosen.

Little did Carlisle know at the time, that theoretical choice was in large part because she was falling in love with him. He recognized his own growing feelings, a fondness for Esme that was unlike any emotion he had felt for anyone before, in either his human or vampire existence. But he never imagined back then that she could feel the same way.

Edward didn't want to interfere, even if he could hear their thoughts and recognized what began as a shared attraction growing into something deeper day by day. He wanted them to discover it for themselves, to build their own love story, if that was indeed what was happening. Only after they had both confessed their feelings to each other, shared their first of what would be decades upon decades of kisses in the woods behind their house, did Edward assure them each privately that the feelings were equally strong on both sides.

Now, over eighty years later, Carlisle marveled at his wife's hunting just as he marveled at everything else she did. Esme would never cease to fascinate him, even her simplest of actions captivating him. He would always look at her this way.

Esme licked the last of the blood from her lips and was instantly in front of Carlisle.

"Thank you," she said, reaching a hand to smooth the blonde hair away from his forehead.

"For what?"

"For letting me take that first moose. I saw you back off. I would have shared."

"I promised you a nice dinner, didn't I? There will be plenty of moose left in the woods for me."

Back on the hunt, it was Esme's turn to stop and watch Carlisle as they came up behind a herd of caribou. Had Esme blinked (a regular habit they had picked up from their human charade), she would have missed Carlisle picking off one of them, so fast was his process. A cat-like lunge from behind, a hand snapping the neck midair, a effortless landing beside the animal, all before the body even hit the ground. Though Edward was the fastest runner, Carlisle was the fastest killer, be it his years of hunting experience, his practiced surgeon hands, or his compassion for the animals, not wanted them to suffer or fear. Probably all factors combined, Esme mused, as she took a leap at her own caribou, breaking the neck, as well. She paused before claiming her meal to look up at Carlisle.

The rest of the heard continued on as he crouched on the ground and raised the animal's head, a hand on the antlers. He latched his mouth to the neck, piercing the throat with his teeth. Violent as the act may seem, Carlisle made it look almost tranquil, natural, never spilling even a drop of blood. A piece of his serene nature carried over even into his feeding habits.

After taking down two more caribou, a mountain goat, and a grizzly bear (the last of which Carlisle insisted Esme have), the pair rested on a ledge jutting off from the mountainside, just beyond the reach of the tree line. They sat mere inches from each other, their legs hanging over the edge above the expansive landscape, trees and terrain coated in a thick layer of snow. Serene as the moment was, Carlisle didn't miss the touch of pain in his mate's eyes as she stared out over the view.

"You're hurting, darling." It wasn't a question, and he already knew the answer as to why.

"I miss him."

"Edward will come back to us." Carlisle wrapped an arm around Esme and pulled her against him, where she tucked her head into his shoulder. "He always does."

"But in what state? I miss Edward the person, the young man I came to love as a son all those years ago. Not Edward the husk of a being. Before he left, it was like he wasn't even there. I looked at him and all I could see was his pain, because that's all that was there, and it broke my heart."

"I know," Carlisle said, running soothing fingers through her hair. "And it caused me—it continues to cause me—as much pain as it does you."

"I know." She wrapped her arms securely around his chest.

This was far from the first time the pair had had this conversation, but both found some comfort in expressing their grief in words to each other, even if it was words they had said before.

"It isn't just him," Esme continued. "I miss her too. That what makes it even worse."

Edward had, naturally, come to Carlisle first before anyone else with his request that their coven leave Forks. The two had a long discussion on the topic, Carlisle trying to persuade Edward against the decision for both the human girl's sake and his own. But when Edward didn't change his mind, Carlisle relented, acknowledging Bella was Edward's mate and it was ultimately his decision.

Carlisle remembered seeing his wife and his son arguing in dining room after Edward announced their departure to the rest of the family. Esme spent over an hour trying to rationalize with her son, insisting they didn't have to leave Forks, and he didn't have to tear himself apart from the only romantic love he had ever known in his century alive. Until she had finally become angry.

"You aren't taking her away from just yourself Edward." Esme would never yell at her family, but her voice did raise a pitch. "You're taking her away from all of us!"

Now here on the cliffside, she mourned the loss of the young woman she had already come to think of as a piece of their family. As a future daughter.

"I knew Bella for only seven months," Esme began to Carlisle, "the blink of an eye for our kind, and I miss her everyday. I had always imagined a mate by Edward's side, someone to bring him happiness. But even more, to complete our coven as her own individual self. To bring her own personality into our family and make it that much more. You know I fiercely love our family just as it is—"

"I do."

"—but a part of me always felt like it wasn't quite balanced. Like we were missing an essential piece. Or rather, an essential person. I had never put a face to this woman, she was just an idea really, a vague presence in the back of my mind. And then that day Edward brought Bella to meet us, I saw her standing in our home beside my son for the first time and I thought, this is her. This is the daughter I've been waiting for all these years. This is the young woman who will complete our family."

Carlisle remembered Esme telling him similar words that day, as Edward took Bella home. Esme was glowing—that was the word Jasper used in describing the emotions he felt from her. It brought a sharp pain to Carlisle's chest thinking how things had turned out. He, too, had grown intensely fond of Bella from the beginning, both for the light she brought into Edward's existence, and for the unique person he had come to know and care for—quite literally as he fixed up her never-ending injuries.

"And even more, Carlisle," Esme continued, "she, a human, embraced our family so completely, despite what we are. She loved us back as though we were no different than humans ourselves."

"I know, my darling. You know how much it pains me, too." He sighed. "But I do believe eventually our Edward will bring himself, and the rest of us, back to her."

"You still think so?"

"Yes, I do. If any good can come of this, I believe Edward will come to learn that neither he nor Bella can be without the other, despite whatever reasons they may try, and he will return to her side. It may just take some time. But I also believe it's a decision he has to reach on his own, and I was therefore very careful to keep him from hearing my thoughts before he left for South America."

"You know I trust you more than anyone in the world, living or immortal?"

Carlisle moved his hand into Esme's, fitting his fingers perfectly in the gaps between hers and squeezing in a comforting touch. She squeezed back.

"I value the connection between us more than anything, Esme. I'm just glad I can offer you any source of comfort right now."

"You always do."

He traced over her wedding ring, the same diamond held in white gold he had proposed to her with in 1921. He had offered to modernize it more than once, but Esme insisted she wanted it to stay the same, whether or not the current styles changed.

"Immortal memory or not," she had said, "I'll always recall in perfect detail the night you asked me to be your partner in this life forever, and gave me this ring. I want it to look just like it did in that memory."

Carlisle now drew his fingers lightly up Esme's arm, all the way over her shoulder, making her shiver with sudden desire. With their blood thirst quenched, other physical needs began to take over, and both eagerly welcomed the distraction from more thoughts on their family issues.

He was well aware he could melt her composure with a single touch. Carlisle continued drawing his hand up her body and the side of her neck as she sighed, leaning into the contact. He paused to touch the scar he had left all those years ago, then traced her jaw as her eyes fell closed. Finally his fingers reaching her lips. They immediately fell open, inviting his own. He gladly obliged Esme's silent request, leaning forward to kiss his wife. She sighed as soon as their lips met, pushing her body up against his and wrapping her arms firmly around his shoulders. He mirrored her posture, embracing her in return as she deepened their kiss, pushing her lips against his with increasing pressure, and eventually slipping her tongue inside.

Desiring more skin-to-skin contact, Carlisle brought his hand up underneath Esme's shirt to rub slow circles on the middle of her back, mirrored the circles she was now tracing with her tongue. They stayed that way, embraced for quite some time, lips and hands moving against each other. While their children were often quick to become intimate, particularly Emmett and Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme usually took their time to get there, savoring every touch, letting the feelings of love and desire wash over them until, finally, it was too much.

Carlisle moved his hand around to her stomach between them, dragging it up over one breast, above her sports bra, thumb tracing whatever exposed flesh he could find.

"Please," she huffed as their lips broke apart, only to join together again.

"What would you would like, Esme?" He was not asking to hear dirty words from her lips. He meant it genuinely, as only he could, wanting to know how best to proceed. Carlisle would strive to give Esme whatever she desired until the end of time.

"I need you on top of me," she sighed, voice strained with growing longing.

Carlisle pulled away, with a moan of protest from his wife at the loss of contact.

"Just one moment," he assured her, taking a thin blanket out from the bag he had brought with them on his back. He moved inside the tree line, where the density of the evergreens sheltered the ground from the snow, smoothing out a bed of pine needs and laying the blanket over top.

Despite Esme's lust-filled eyes, darker now than they were even before she hunted, her lips pulled into a soft smile at Carlisle's tender gesture, making this bed in the woods to love her on.

Loving which she was eager to commence.

She was in front of him instantly, leaning back her head to give Carlisle's lips full access to her neck. He began at the hollow behind her jaw, trailing down to her scar. The heat between her legs grew into a burning. She unzipped his leather jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He broke contact to pull off the shirt underneath, as Esme began to shed her own layers of clothing. On his now bare chest, she dragged her fingers from the space between his collar bone down to his defined stomach muscles, to the button on his pants. She flashed her dark eyes up at him once before resuming her work, the look sending a lightning bolt down his pelvis.

When the last of their clothing was gone, Carlisle wrapped one hand around Esme's back, the other holding her head, and gently lowered her onto the blanket, her own arms clinging to his neck. Her locks of caramel hair fanned out beautifully around her. Her eyes gazed intently back at him, and her pale skin seemed to sparkle even in the shade of the forest. Carlisle marveled at the sight of his wife.

"Are you comfortable like this, Esme?" he asked, before proceeding any further.

"Yes, I am," she answered, smiling at how caring he always had, and always would be. She loved Carlisle so much it sometimes felt like her ribcage would burst. He paused before joining their bodies until she gave him a small nod, offering the affirmation he sought. Esme released an appreciative sound from deep in her throat upon the contact she had been craving, wrapping her arms more tightly around her husband, pulling his body even closer to hers.

Though the sudden pleasure begged Carlisle's eyes to shut as he and his wife moved back and forth against each other, he willed them to stay open, to look into Esme's face. To see the equal pleasure there, and to remind himself of how thankful he was for their over eight decade long companionship. They knew each other's minds and bodies as well as they knew themselves. The connection they shared was remarkable, and despite all the time that had passed, he still looked at Esme with the same eyes as the first day he realized he loved her.

She released a loud sigh, moving one hand to his face to cup his cheek. He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

"Esme," he breathed her name, drawing another audible sigh. She always enjoyed the privacy remote locations such as this one offered, where she could voice her pleasure without anyone but her partner hearing. Most wouldn't guess Esme as the passionate lover she was, but Carlisle knew better. Her enhanced ability to love fiercely encompassed all spheres of love, including the sensual, which Carlisle had the privilege of being the sole recipient of. He appreciated it to no end every time.

Esme wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her heels, digging them into the small of his back to push him deeper inside her. She enjoyed a few more of his trusts before tightening her grip and rolling them over so she was above him.

Carlisle sighed appreciatively, allowing his mate to take control. Esme's hips were never still against his as she pushed him further towards his release, never staying quiet herself given their secluded location. She could read his body language like a book after so long together, and she knew from the slight tremble in his movements he was close. She leaned down to take his lips and tongue against hers, throwing her hips forward and finally pushing him over the edge.

Though Carlisle was the first to finish, but Esme was only seconds behind him, collapsing on top of her husband as they both trembled, arms still desperately holding each other. As they came down from their high, he began to place light kisses on her cheek, her shoulder. She moved so she was beside him on the blanket, huddled into his side, and rubbed her fingers gently up and down his arm.

"I'll love you always," Esme whispered against his skin.

"Until the ends of my days, my love," he answered.

They laid holding each other, sharing slow and gentle touches, listening to the sound of the Alaskan wilderness around them, the rise and fall of the others chest as they took breaths they didn't truthfully need.

"There's no place I'm happier than by your side, like this, my darling," Carlisle murmured against her ear.

She smiled, turning to face him.

"Then I suppose it's too bad I want you again," she said.

"I think we can work out a compromise," he answered, keeping them on their sides as he pulled her leg over his hip.

The three additional days of their hunting trip followed with more traveling, hunting, and loving on the forest floor. Carlisle and Esme always enjoyed hunting trips like this one, time when they could focus on nothing but the company of each other. Now especially, with the pain their family had faced over the past months, both appreciated this time together with only the two of them in the Alaskan wilderness, away from the problems in their world. It felt like a breath of fresh air, coated in cool frost from the mountains.

They returned to the Denali house late in the afternoon, coming out of the snow-covered forest with their hands bound to each other. Esme was laughing at a joke Carlisle had made, and he was beaming back at her, both still blissful from their escape. But that feeling was instantly shattered as Rosalie ran out of the house to meet them, her beautiful face twisted in dismay.

"I'm so sorry," she choked. "Esme…Carlisle, I'm so sorry."

Worry washed over Carlisle's features, while Esme's expression, joyous only a second ago, was closer to panic.

"Rosalie, what happened?" Esme dropped her husband's hand to reach instead for her daughter, but Rosalie cringed away from her touch, turning the other woman's expression from alarm to hurt confusion. Physical touch was Esme's primary love language, and though the same could not be said about Rosalie, Esme's touch was one of the few she would not only always accept, but embrace in return.

But now Rosalie believed Esme would regret extending her arms to her, once she learned what her daughter had done. Rosalie felt she did not deserve the woman's loving touch, knowing the unforgivable pain she was about to cause her.

Rosalie, instead, wrapped her own arms around her body. She looked down at the snow, unable to meet their eyes.

"It's Edward," she said. And the rest came out in a rush. "Alice saw Bella drown and I told him, but she was wrong, and Bella's alive—but its too late. Edward's in Volterra, requesting the Volturi…" she couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to, they knew.

Esme didn't even feel her knees hit the snow as she lost her footing, and Carlisle's eyes filled with dread as his hand came over his mouth, his normal composure vanished.