"Are you insane? Have you actually lost your mind?"
"Edward," Carlisle sighs, averting his eyes from the sight of his son, livid and shaking his head in shock.
It's not that he blames him. How is this newly born but well-adapting vampire supposed to react to his only companion in the world walking up to their shared home with a human in his arms?
The incredulous rage on Edward's face softens for a moment, replaced by sheer confusion as he surely sorts through the memories in Carlisle's mind. Both recent and not.
"You knew her? And she was..." He knows what Edward is seeing then, the vision that continues to replay through his head over and over again. "Carlisle, it wasn't your right to interfere. To take that choice from her."
Carlisle purses his lips, but can't help glancing back to the woman slack in his arms. "I couldn't stand by and watch it, Edward."
"You weren't just 'standing by'," Edward argues, hisses. "You caught the scent of human blood, her blood. For once, the great Carlisle Cullen couldn't resist temptation."
"Her scent was in the woods, leading to an ocean's edge," Carlisle explains, only a few steps from the house now. "I didn't seek her out for her blood, I sought her because she - I feel..." For once, he is at a true loss for words. He doesn't understand the feelings Esme Platt evokes within him, he never has. Yes, her blood called to him in a way others' have not, but he had more than an extraordinary desire to taste her blood. No, it was so much more than that. He was called to this woman in a way that went beyond bloodlust. "I feel protective of her."
Edward stares back at him as if he has committed a cardinal sin.
"I thought... I only thought I would catch a glimpse of her. It's been ten years and I just..." Wanted to see her, he just really wanted to see the woman she had become. There's no need to voice the thoughts. But, he tries to reason, it was just curiosity. Nothing more than the simple desire he has never been able to fulfill of getting to check in on a patient long after he has healed them. "If I had been too late, or too early, to witness her true purpose for being there, I would not have intervened."
"You should not have intervened regardless," Edward spats, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "But God forbid your conscious be littered."
Carlisle sighs inwardly. "Edward-"
"I'm going to hunt, spend some time away in the woods for the night. I can't... I don't want to risk anything." Edward mutters, racing down the stairs of the porch and disappearing towards the tree line.
He doubts the boy can hear him, but he still thinks it.
I'm sorry.
Esme exhales heavily in her sleep, the hot spread of her breath warming his throat, a sensation he's never experienced.
Edward is right, he knows it. He was selfish in his act of saving her, selfish to do more than place her back on land after swooping in to interrupt her descent. He should have left her there, left her for good this time.
But as her fingers snag in the fabric of his sweater, the line of her body curling in closer to him, he can only regret so much.
Hers was a life too beautiful to be lost.
She wakes with a start, knowing she is somewhere new, somewhere different.
"Ms. Platt." The soft voice from her dream is there. Esme sits up on the couch, the blanket draped at her shoulders falling to pool in her lap. Her eyes swivel to find her childhood doctor perched on a stool nearby, watching her with those kind, patient eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Where are we?" she rasps, her throat still rough with tears, causing reality to crash back. Her hand automatically falls to her stomach.
God, her baby. The cliff, the jump, the… the intervention.
"Well, for all intents and purposes, this is my home," Dr. Cullen explains. "After I found you-"
"It wasn't a dream," she gasps, tension rippling through her frame, the blood in her veins running cold. "You saved me."
He nods slowly. "I did. I'm… I'm sorry that it was not what you wanted."
"The rest of it," Esme murmurs, pulling her knees to her chest, unconsciously shrinking against the couch at her back. "Was real too."
The shame that floods his features causes something in her chest to ache.
"Yes."
"You aren't human," she assesses, quiet but not afraid. Something about Carlisle Cullen forbids the fear of men she knows all too well from taking hold.
"Not anymore," he answers with downcast eyes, standing from his place beside the couch. "Not for quite a while."
Esme bites her lip, not sure where to go from here. Both literally and figuratively. She has nowhere to go, not after she was discharged from the hospital. The time in which she spent staying with her cousin was under a time-sensitive agreement, one she didn't think she would ever need to break.
She and her sweet boy were supposed to be long gone from Ashland by now.
But that plan is no longer and there is nowhere she can go back to, nowhere she actually wants to return to. She doesn't have the time to figure out a new next step, Charles will likely be well on her trail by now.
"Ms. Platt-"
"That isn't my name anymore," she states inanely, pointlessly. "I - I was married."
"Oh." The good doctor is taken aback for a moment, but he recovers in an instant. "Would you prefer I called you by your married-"
"No," she answers too quickly. "Please. Just call me Esme."
"Esme." His eyes trick her, look as though they brighten for a split second. "Would you like me to help you return to him, to your home?"
Dread coils in the pit of her stomach, must spill onto her face. Before she can respond, a catch of movement behind the doctor, sun spilling into the doorway, steals her attention.
"Carlisle, if you could see the thoughts that just sprang to her mind."
Carlisle spins at the sound of the voice in the entryway, the growl, and moves instinctively to stand in front of Esme.
He was quite certain Edward was lurking nearby since Esme awoke, his interest at least piqued.
"Edward-"
"Everything makes sense now, why she was on that cliff. What's been done to her," Edward presses on, remaining in the doorway with the dying light illuminating his silhouette. But Carlisle is still able to catch the pause in his expression, the shift of his attention onto Esme. "She's scared. She's been here too long and he'll be coming for her-"
"Please," Esme rasps from behind him. Carlisle is at her side in a flash, kneeling before the couch. Her shoulders are trembling now, but he remains careful not to touch her. "I don't understand how you know, but please, please stop."
She has curled in on herself, knees to her chest and face in her hands, made herself as small as possible.
"Esme," he calls as softly as he can for her human ears. "I'm sorry to introduce you to my son, Edward, under these circumstances."
Her brown eyes peek up at him from over the hill of her knees. "You have a son?"
"Well, yes. Technically, my adoptive son."
"Because he is like you?" Esme deduces, body steadily unfurling. "A vampire?"
"Jesus," Edward curses quietly. "There's no going back, is there? You expect her to just keep this to herself? And we're supposed to carry on as if you haven't exposed us to a human-"
"You believe I would expose you?" Esme pipes up, incensed eyes flitting between Edward and Carlisle. Her chin lifts in defiance. "If you were somehow in my head, as I can only assume you were, then you must have learned how skilled I am in keeping a secret."
The slight edge to her voice has one of Carlisle's eyebrows arching, his pride rising, as he spares a glimpse back at Edward.
"You told her about my abilities?" Edward hisses, but it is Esme who answers before Carlisle can deny it.
"No one told me, but why should I not come to that conclusion? A vampire who starts spouting off the exact thoughts occurring in my head as I'm thinking them? Figures you'd be reading my mind," she huffs, scaping a shaking hand through her tangled curls.
Carlisle blinks in surprise, Edward remains silent, fuming in the entry.
"I have no interest in exposing anyone. Mere hours ago, I had no interest in being alive, so please, refrain from worrying about word traveling," Esme continues, swallowing hard in conclusion.
She sounds so very tired, her voice weary and worn down by the despair she's suffered.
"Thank you, Esme," Carlisle murmurs, earning the return of her gaze, the barely discernible twitch of her lips. "I know this has all been sudden and quick. Please, feel free to ask any and as many questions as you would like."
She straightens up a little on the couch and takes him up on the offer immediately, roping Edward into the gentle interrogation as well.
For hours, they explain to her the 'how's, the 'why's, brief summaries of their personal biographies. Her eyes widen, lips parting in pained surprise when Edward tells her of his death two decades ago.
"It must have been so hard, for both of you," she whispers, nestled comfortably into the corner of the sofa now, the cashmere blanket wrapped protectively around her shoulders. In the hours since Edward's arrival, Carlisle has migrated to the other end of the couch, but he is still able to feel the warmth emanating from her figure across the furniture. "I'm so sorry."
Edwards shrugs, the awkwardness obvious to Carlisle in the action. It's the first time the boy has told his story to anyone, the first time it has been met with sympathy.
"Carlisle gave me a new life, something I sometimes take for granted," Edward murmurs, nodding the apology to Carlisle.
Esme still looks at the boy with a careful crease in her brow, the corners of her mouth turned down, so much compassion for someone she barely knows, someone she should fear.
"Carlisle?" The sound of his name in her mouth has his head spinning towards her so fast, his neck almost aches.
Edward chuckles at him.
"Were you dying as well? When you turned?"
"And on that note, I think I may take another trip into the forest. I've heard this story too many times," Edward mutters, jumping from his place on the windowsill. "Esme, it was a pleasure to meet you."
"Wait," Esme calls, standing from her seat on the sofa. "It's… well, it's dark out there. Are you sure you won't wait until morning?"
Edward's lips break into a smile then. "I appreciate the concern, but I promise I'll be fine… and I won't go far. Judging by Carlisle's mind, neither will you. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."
Carlisle clears his throat, but Edward merely rolls his eyes at him before speeding out the door, leaving it swinging open in his wake.
"Would you like to continue this conversation outside?" Carlisle invites, standing beside her with his head inclined towards the door his son just disappeared through.
She accepts, following him out onto the porch of the two-story house she's finally allowed herself to take in. It's gorgeous, brimming with potential for restoration, for a breath of life. But, she supposes, that may defeat the purpose of Carlisle and Edward using it as their haven.
"Your property is beautiful," she compliments, coming to a halt at the edge of the wooden flooring, her hip finding natural support in the railing that encompasses the length of the porch.
"Indeed, certainly ideal," Carlisle nods, but his eyes remain intent on her. They blink furiously when she catches him staring. "It's the fourth place I've lived with Edward. I think he quite likes Wisconsin."
"Is this not where you are from?" she asks, finding herself eager for the answer. Through the clouds of grief she has been stumbling through, he is the first thing she has seen clearly. She doesn't expect it to last, can't expect anything to slice through the pain planted inside of her, but she can appreciate the one person making it feel somewhat manageable.
"London," he corrects, a wistful sigh leaving him. "I miss it sometimes. Haven't been back in over a century now."
It takes her a moment to comprehend that information, to absorb the way he so easily speaks of being alive for as long as he has. When she initially asked earlier in the evening how long each of them had been alive, Edward's twenty years of being seventeen seemed like nothing compared to Carlisle's 258 years of being twenty-three.
"Is that where you were turned?" she inquires, receiving a nod in response.
"My father was a very religious man and when he caught wind of London being invaded by demons, he was determined to hunt them down himself. I accompanied him, naturally. One moment, I was inspecting the depths of a London sewer system, the next, I was waking up alone in the cold with my throat on fire."
Her fingers itch to reach for him, to comfort the wave of loneliness that radiates from his stoic frame.
"That sounds awful."
"The hardest part was escaping before my father could learn what had become of me," he recalls, rubbing at the back of his neck. "He would have tried to kill me and amidst all of the fear, confusion, and thirst, I can't be sure I would not have hurt him."
"You are better than I am," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't think my first concern would be my father's safety if he was trying to kill me."
Carlisle chuckles softly and takes the opportunity to change the subject. "Do you still see your father?"
"No." Esme picks at the edges of the blanket in her grasp. "My parents urged me to marry early in life and faced severe disappointment when I failed to do so. When I was twenty-two, I finally gave in when they set me up with a family friend." Her spine is taut with the memory, the beginning of the end for her. "Charles moved us away pretty early on into our marriage, isolated me from others. We were married for four years when I learned I was pregnant."
"And you came here?" Carlisle inquires, his entire body leaning towards her as if hanging on her every word.
"I had a cousin in the area who let me stay with them throughout my pregnancy," she recounts, chewing on her bottom lip. Her cousin Will had been reluctant of the entire ordeal, but he was also the only family member who ever would have considered offering her sanctuary. He lost his wife when Esme was nineteen and she watched the grief consume him, soften him. "I got a job as a school teacher at the elementary in town, but after I had my baby, I didn't plan to stay. I knew he would find me sooner or later so I quit the job I had, I erased any sign that I've been here," Esme explains, staring out into the darkness, the endless rows of trees. "I'm not sure where to go now."
"Don't," Carlisle replies, the perfect curve of his lips quirked for her, but his eyes are solemn, intent. "I mean, we have so much space here that we don't utilize. There's an extra bedroom upstairs, you could stay as long as you need. Granted, you don't mind staying in a house of vampires."
A surprised laugh flutters past her lips.
"I think Edward would mind more than I do," she chuckles, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Are you sure it isn't too much, to be around a human like this?"
Carlisle ponders her inquiry for a moment before shaking his head. "Not for me, but I don't believe for Edward either. Not at this scale. And even if it were, he knows his limits well, knows when to step back and take some space."
Esme hums her assent, popping her toes against the wood of the porch.
"Though, we may need to acquire your things at some point," Carlisle comments, stealing a glimpse at her bare feet. "I'm sure you'd be more comfortable that way."
"I think I left them at the hospital," she sighs, scraping a hand through the limp curls of her hair. "I'd packed a bag for myself, the same one I brought with me when I left Charles. I packed a smaller one for my son as well." Her eyes burn and she does her best to blink the sting away. "But it's all probably been donated or tossed by now."
"I'll stop by tomorrow before my shift, see what I can find," Carlisle assures her.
"Carlisle?" She angles her body to see him better, to examine the lines of concentration etched into his face, the genuine interest and attention he gives to her when she simply calls his name. "Why did you save me?"
He looks like a chastened little boy, caught doing something wrong. She wants to tell him that it isn't his fault she wished to die, isn't his fault for trying to do the right thing by saving her life when it was meant to end.
"I knew it was you before I actually saw you," he confesses, but it only furthers her confusion. "I recognized your scent. I'm not sure I would have investigated otherwise, but I had to see if it was actually you and when I did, you were stepping off the edge. I acted before anything else."
Esme takes a step closer to him, watching his downcast gaze follow the small steps of her feet.
"I'm assuming impeccable memory is part of your vampire abilities?"
"It is," he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "But I think when it comes to you, I just didn't want to forget."
She hopes he can't hear her heartbeat stutter.
"I never forgot either," she whispers, but a heaviness has settled over her chest again. The grief and the sorrow, the sharp stab of loss. "But I'm not that person anymore, Carlisle. I am so… so damaged. It's why I had to do what I did."
"Esme." He lifts his hand, slowly and in view of her gaze, inching it forward until he settles it ever so softly onto her arm, his touch cool but her skin still managing to heat beneath it. "I enjoyed meeting you ten years ago, but I believe the woman you've become is an incredible transformation in itself. I don't know your story, I will let you tell it to me in your own time, but I already see the same beauty and strength I met then staring back at me now. Just a little older."
Her mouth feels dry, but her lips still part, wanting to thank him.
"I understand you have suffered and I would never fault you for a single choice you have made. I have done the same you did on that cliff's edge today," he admits, the smile he gives her so rueful and sad. "I know what it's like, to need peace."
The idea of the man in front of her attempting to take his own life unsettles her with its inherent wrongness. There is something so purely good that radiates from Carlisle, it would be a punishment to the world itself to lose him.
Her words are rough when they finally make it out. "I'm relieved that vampires cannot commit suicide."
Carlisle's smile grows before he seems to realize, subduing it.
"In this moment, so am I."