"Take care, Edward," Carlisle finished quietly.

Edward couldn't find the words to respond. Words at all failed him. He was left numbly staring at the phone as Carlisle hung up.

Alice appeared in the doorway, glancing at him in concern, "Do you want to talk?"

Edward shook his mutely.

Alice pursed her lips, and looked at him. He saw her concern, her worry and love for him as she contemplated her favorite brother.

"When you're ready, I'm here," she finally said, and with a respectful nod made herself scarce. In her thoughts he caught that she'd be instructing Jasper and the Denali to leave and give Edward time and space without the intrusion of their thoughts.

Soon, he would have the house as well as the surrounding several miles to himself.

Funny, how Alice understood him so well, always had, long before Edward even knew she existed.

Funny, too, how she'd known not to ask him if he wanted Jasper's assistance, for all that he was sure he looked like he needed it.

And funny, that Carlisle, who had always understood Edward in a way no one else did, had so quickly allowed the Volturi to get inside his head.

Of course-they were very clever, cleverer than Edward could have imagined. Alice, of course, had never met Bella so it was unsurprising she couldn't see much of her. Nor, he supposed, had she met the Volturi. However, Carlisle's future was-it was patchy, at best. There were times when he was clear as day and other times he all but vanished. There was no rhyme or reason for it, not that Alice could tell, which made her doubt that the Volturi were behind it or even aware of it but-

They might be experimenting, Edward thought to himself, might be looking for some means of escaping Alice's sight just as they'd very quickly rid themselves of Edward.

The memory of Alice's snapshot of a vision of Carlisle the night before, after he'd hung up on his bizarre rant about laundry, came back to haunt Edward. What emergency could have Carlisle forced to scrub tiles with a barely dressed Aro in the early hours of the morning? He was glad he'd had Alice look, but he still didn't have any answers.

And then, Bella supposedly was suffering from liver cancer. Something that Carlisle felt demanded his family's return home, without him, and he gleefully used this cancer, this symptom free cancer, as an excuse for his sudden secretiveness.

Not to mention, as far as Bella was concerned, that as Rosalie had now removed herself from 'art class', there was no Cullen supervision of what was going on in that room. Rosalie, of course, couldn't be made to give a damn but-

Edward did not like this, did not like any of this.

Of course, calling Bella had been a moonshot, he knew that. Alice had seen that very clearly, it could work, it might work, but there had been very few guarantees. He was a stranger to Bella, he hadn't even had a chance to speak a word to her and his first impression-it had been lacking to say the least.

At least he'd tried.

Or, rather, the thought had been that he'd be able to tell himself he'd tried, and no harm had been done, but then Carlisle had called.

"Edward, it's a miracle you're alive. And by miracle, I mean Marcus voted in your favor for Aro's sake, because he knows Aro doesn't want to execute my son. Edward, if you knew how close–" Carlisle's voice had cracked, and Edward had heard the sharp intake of breath, before Carlisle tried again, "Please, please, don't make me lose you. Don't make Esme lose you. You know–" his voice had grown thick again, "You know that we are, the way we work – the way we love – none of your family would ever recover from that!"

By the end of his rant, Carlisle had been on the verge of tears.

Edward's heart had twisted in both grief and anger at having to listen to his father in such a state, and the hatred he'd felt for Marcus somehow grew even more intense.

"Carlisle," Edward had said sharply, unease, shame, and anger battling in his stomach, "If these men are as generous, as wise, as you always said they were then surely they must see-"

"Edward," Carlisle had said, actually cutting him off, "They have no sense of humor and they take their law, their only law, very seriously. Were you anyone else, you would be dead."

"But I didn't break the law! Carlisle, if they seriously considered killing me over that– Carlisle, they're abusing their power, and you're giving me the blame!" He'd laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"And?" Carlisle had asked, and-Edward had blinked at that. He had never heard Carlisle sound like that before, "Edward, whatever you believe, and believe me when I say it's complicated, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if they're corrupt, if they're just, they have the power. And if they decide they are in the right to execute you, within their interpretation of the law, then you will die."

Edward had struggled to find words. "You– you're just gonna let her die?"

Carlisle had sighed into the microphone on the other end. "There is no saving Bella Swan. And from what I've gathered, she does not want you to save her, either."

"She doesn't know what they'll do to her!" Edward had all but roared into the phone.

"I-Believe it or not, but I believe she truly does care for Marcus," Carlisle had continued, "She considers him a close friend, and he considers her one as well. She-for his sake, even without this grotesque charade, I believe she would say yes. I believe she would say yes to a great many things, as a matter of fact."

Edward had laughed at that. "You believe that?" he'd asked in shock. "You honestly, actually, believe that? You just said they'll execute me over a crime I haven't committed, and that they're going to destroy this girl no matter what we do or how she feels about it– and you believe they care about her? That Marcus is friends with her?"

"I do," Carlisle had said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Edward had only stared at the wall ahead of him, trying and failing to summon any words, anything at all.

"And Edward," Carlisle had then said very quietly, sounding like he did not even want to say it, "It would perhaps be wise to keep in mind that you do not know this girl. You met her, once, and it was no more personal than making eye contact with a stranger at a train station. You do not know her, she doesn't know you, and… Edward, I fear you have formed for yourself an idea of this girl, an idea that you've grown very attached to but that is, nonetheless, an idea."

Edward had let in a sharp breath, but still said nothing.

Carlisle had sighed into the phone.

"Do not call her, don't even think about her, let her go and enjoy the summer. We'll-Everyone will be home before you know it."

"Everyone?" Edward had asked sharply, "Where will you be?"

"Given Bella's medical condition-I don't know when I'll be home. Whenever my services are no longer required."

"You're staying with the Volturi?" Edward had asked, no, stated, dully.

The floor beneath his feet had felt increasingly like air, like he had only the illusion of solid ground beneath his feet and any moment now, the illusion would break and he would start falling.

"I'm staying to help out one of my dearest friends, and a human who needs my help," Carlisle had corrected him gently. Then, in a soft voice, he'd added, "It's the reason why I came in the first place. Certainly, I didn't anticipate the cancer - though I should have smelled it sooner - but in a way, you could say nothing's changed."

"Is that it?" Edward had asked then, in a very small voice. Had he been human, there would have been warm tears trailing down his face.

"The world is not fair, Edward," Carlisle had said, "I realize you know this, intellectually, but I think given the fortunate lives we've made of unfortunate circumstances, it is easy to forget. Ours is not a just world, it makes no promises for fairness, that good is easy to distinguish and always trumps evil. That villains are easily distinguished and cast or that good men are not sometimes forced to do awful things."

"I'm not a child, Carlisle!" Edward had barked. "I– I've seen things– you know what my gift does! What I've- what I've done. Don't talk to me like I'm some sort of child!"

But Carlisle only continued, in that same, kind, yet firm voice, "The Volturi are not evil, Edward, their law is not unjust nor their interpretation of it," Carlisle had said, "What is happening with Bella-while it is not good, and I never agreed with it, it is also not evil. It is the kind of decision to be made by men capable of ruling the world. Which, of course, I am not suited for and I suspect neither are you. Be glad that these are not the decisions we have to contend with, but learn to let them go when you see others face them."

Edward had had nothing to say to that.

The conversation had ended after that.

Leaving Edward alone, despondent, and–

Whenever he felt like this, he would go talk to Carlisle about it. And Carlisle would smile, his thoughts and words so loving and warm, everything about the man signifying home and rightness in a way nothing and no one else had ever quite managed. Esme was his mother, of course, in every way that mattered, but Carlisle was– he was everything.

In those dark years on his own, when the ecstasy of blood had begun to lose its appeal, the thought of Carlisle not being this had terrified him. The Carlisle of his imagination, cold and disapproving, contemptuous over Edward's weak-willed return, had been a figure of nightmares who had kept Edward from returning for several years.

Only his own desperation, his endless despair, had finally driven him home to face his destiny. But that dark Carlisle had been an imagined thing, and the true Carlisle and Esme had welcomed him home with open arms and never said a word of his disappearance.

And now, in only a day, Marcus and Aro had poisoned Carlisle against him.

It felt–

It didn't even feel like anything. It was simply unreal. Like an alien had been on the phone just now, and not Carlisle Cullen.

Bella's face, her wide, terrified dark eyes aimed at him, rose to the surface of his mind. It was his reflection that had been in her eyes then, but soon enough, especially with her cancer-it would be one of them.

No, he had seen Bella's terror firsthand when faced with the truth of vampirism.

If she knew what Marcus truly was...

Carlisle's refusal to help her burned in Edward's mind like a fire that was rapidly growing out of control, every word Carlisle had uttered like another can of gasoline being thrown onto the bonfire.

He remembered Esme's call the night before. Oh, she had tried not to let him detect her distress, concerned about his own state of mind as she was, but it'd been obvious. Carlisle had abandoned her, Aro appearing at their door in a bathrobe speaking in a language he knew Esme couldn't understand, and just run off to do-

Laundry.

Laundry that Alice had immediately debunked.

And now Bella Swan had incurable cancer, which apparently meant Carlisle had to be alone in Volterra from now on.

Alice-again, she'd never met Bella and it was hard to say, she'd never tried to directly see someone she'd never met, but she hadn't seen any hint of Bella for the past day. It was as if the family, even Carlisle who claimed to be tending to her, weren't interacting with her at all. Even Edward's decisions surrounding Bella, his plans to meet her, yielded nothing.

Whatever Bella's fate was, Alice couldn't see it.

Something was very wrong in Volterra.

So, Carlisle thought the world was unjust? Well, Edward wouldn't accept that, he'd never accepted that. Even when he'd sunk so low as to indulge in murder, he'd always tried to do so in a way that would preserve some sense of rightness in the world.

The world did not have to be unfair.

At least, the innocents of this word did not deserve to be given up on.

Edward walked out of his room, and into the Denali sisters' living room in a slow daze as he thought over his options.

He-no, he couldn't continue calling her. Clearly, her phone had already been discovered, his messages shown to Carlisle by Aro. That was far too easily detected, too ineffective, and if Carlisle was to be believed then the moment Edward tried the Volturi would be after his head.

Her family? Surely, especially if she were dying, her family would demand she return to America. That they hadn't been told already-Had she somehow been coerced into secrecy? He couldn't imagine she would keep this to herself but she couldn't possibly be ignorant either, no, no matter what had happened to Carlisle he would never keep her condition from her.

The family then-again, it was so very easily traced and more, it felt like a trap. Carlisle likely didn't know, would never suspect, but perhaps Bella's family was being held hostage by the Volturi already. If Edward contacted them, he'd be falling straight into their hands.

No, the cancer was made up.

Though, whether Carlisle was aware of that or not was a different matter.

Edward's eyes widened as the pieces started falling into place.

If the girl truly had cancer, Carlisle would have smelled it immediately. He would have seen it immediately, liver cancer gives jaundice and Carlisle had seen more jaundice than anyone.

And even if Carlisle somehow missed it, Edward would have smelled it or Rosalie, they'd been through medical school and while they did not have Carlisle's years of practice or expertise, they both knew when something smelled 'wrong' with a human.

And Bella-oh, she had not smelled cancerous in the least.

And yet, somehow, Carlisle had been fooled.

Unless–

Unless he was lying, like he had about the laundry.

Edward felt as if he had been punched, winded in a way he never had as a vampire.

Carlisle had been turned against them.

Somehow, and in such little time, Carlisle had been taken from them, right from underneath their noses, so that he now belonged to the Volturi.

He was politely removing them from the picture. Made up a scenario where his services alone were desperately required, in a circumstance where his family would only be in the way. Just as-just as he had wanted to visit Volterra alone, in the first place, and never once relented and expressed gratitude that his family had accompanied him.

He had always, since before their arrival, been trying to get rid of them.

He would stay, and the stay would extend, and extend, as Bella no doubt experienced ups and downs, going on this or that treatment…

And he would never leave Volterra.

Edward laughed to himself, neurotically, told himself it simply wasn't possible. Carlisle had never said he wasn't returning, he'd spoken as if he fully intended to, but that the date itself had simply been pushed further out.

Of course, there wasn't an excuse in the world that could keep him there indefinitely. Bella was mortal and cancer or not, she would either die or be turned. When she was turned, Carlisle's 'services' couldn't possibly be required. And what would he tell his family then?

Edward couldn't even begin to imagine it.

No, it required–

It required actually believing that this was real. That Carlisle was leaving, that he was dropping his family without warning, without giving them even a chance to fight for him. For a group of remorseless killers that spat on every ideal Carlisle had ever held dear.

And he loved them. He loved them all, Rosalie, Esme, Edward himself, so dearly. Edward knew that, he knew that like he knew his own name, he'd seen the love Carlisle had for each and every one of them every hour of every day in his thoughts.

What could possibly motivate Carlisle, who so dearly loved his family, to abandon them?

"Oh that poor boy."

Edward lifted his head numbly. It seemed that Eleazar had run out of patience. The man was outside but quickly returning, having decided his services (given his own history with the Volturi and being the only man in the house aside from Jasper) were required.

Within a few seconds, Eleazar was standing in the living room, smiling kindly at Edward.

"Eleazar," Edward nodded. He offered nothing else, he didn't trust himself to say it.

Through Eleazar's eyes, he looked a wretch. Worse, perhaps, than he ever had in even his darkest hours.

Eleazar's brows knitted together, and in a flash he was seated next to Edward, one fatherly hand on his knee.

"Alice told us that you had a little brush up against the law," Eleazar said, "I wish you had told me earlier, I realize Carlisle stayed in Volterra for a little while, but I was a key part of Volturi operations. I have a firmer understanding of the law than he could have relayed to you."

There was a distant, muted, thought that Eleazar imagined Carlisle had said nothing, if anything at all, about the Volturi's law. Just that it existed and the basics of it. Eleazar, while he'd been willing to suspend disbelief, hadn't imagined that Carlisle spent much time pondering it.

Edward looked at Eleazar. "Carlisle's staying," he said emotionlessly.

Like letting out a pressure valve, he had to say it. He needed to get the words out, feel the shape of them, listen to what they sounded like.

Get used to them.

"It's a complicated thing for something so simple," Eleazar continued, never minding Edward's stare or his words, "There's only one law, of course but-I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Carlisle has decided to stay in Volterra," Edward said.

Eleazar's expression faded, he looked stunned, and perhaps even a little panicked. An anxious edge made its way into his thoughts. Alice hadn't told them anything about that, she'd said that Edward had received a phone call from Carlsile, an admonishment from the Volturi and a warning-

"Ah, well, he told you that?" Eleazar asked, but before Edward could answer he said, "I'm afraid, Edward, that I just can't see it. Your father's a dear friend of mine, but you see, he just isn't that useful to them. Oh, he stayed his time there, I'll give him that, but he provides absolutely nothing of value to them. Know that I respect him greatly when I say this but, to men like Aro, he's just not worth much."

Edward stared dully.

Perhaps.

"He's acting completely unlike himself," Edward said in a monotone. "He's been there for a day, and he is acting like some stranger I don't recognize. Refusing to leave. Lying to get rid of us."

"Yes, well, I'm sure he's feeling a bit-how do I say this politely? Inadequate," Eleazar huffed, "He's in Volterra, among the most powerful men in the world, and he's ungifted and invited only for the fact that he has the odd hobby of dallying with the humans. Can you imagine how that must make him feel? Of course he's not acting in character, and of course he doesn't want you to see it firsthand."

Edward said nothing.

"I imagine… know, again, that I have every respect for Carlisle, he truly is wonderful, but he is used to being Doctor Cullen," Eleazar made a grand swipe of his arm. "He is used to being among mortals, awed and amazed mortals who can't even begin to compare. Now, however, he is among equals who are just as clever and inhumanly beautiful as he, except he's not even that, because they all have useful skills that they can brandish, and he doesn't. Being able to stitch up the odd human or diagnose a faulty skeleton is worth nothing to a throne room of vampires."

Eleazar envisioned Carlisle, scowling and upset, sidelined by tall, illustrious, and cloaked Volturi. Edward was reminded somewhat of Carlisle's painting, with Carlisle standing behind the three figures. He'd always seemed noticeable to Edward, glowing despite his positioning, but Edward now realized that-he had been given a distinctly lesser position.

"I'm sure you've wondered, given my illustrious history, why I don't bring it up more often," Eleazar noted, "I spent many years with the Volturi, I was Aro's right hand man, but I rarely discuss it with your family even though Carlisle himself spent some time there as a-guest. I do it as a favor to your father, he asked me in great distress, to keep my time in Volterra, my closeness with Aro, to myself. And I have, for all these years, out of my respect and friendship for him. But you see, it makes him feel-small, to be reminded of his relatively ordinary nature."

Here, there were flashes of Eleazar's memories of Volterra. Of his many discussions with Aro in Aro's office late into the night, Eleazar inspecting the grand Volturi gifts and giving Renata advice on how to best utilize her shield, and scouting for gifts among nomadic covens with Felix and Demetri.

Other memories, too, of perusing Aro's treasury, his library, with a finger trailing along the book spines and along the rims of ancient gold cups.

And then a more recent flash, of Carlisle in the woods, emotionally open in a way Edward had rarely seen him, imploring Eleazar to keep the details of his close relationship with Aro to himself, for it hurt him too much to be forced to listen to it.

"So I'm hardly shocked he's out of sorts," Eleazar said with a laugh, "And I'm even less shocked that he'd want anything but for his beloved family to see it."

Edward-he thought this over.

Carlisle was not a man that Edward would ever accuse of feeling smaller or lesser than others. No, while he treated even those not on their diet as friends and equal, he never bowed his head before them in meekness.

On the contrary, he'd always been proud of his choices, his beliefs, and his family.

"Ah, I wish you could have spent more time there," Eleazar said with a pleased sigh, "Pity about the human, running you out of the city. The opulence of it, and the gifts, you are powerful yourself, Edward, but you pale next to the sheer wealth of psychic ability in that stronghold."

With a small smile, Eleazar proceeded to give Edward a detailed tour of the things he'd learned, the treasures he'd seen, and the histories Aro had imparted unto him, during his sojourn in Volterra.

It was far more than Carlisle had ever shared, a buffet to the morsels of information Carlisle would offer only on rare occasions, and always with a melancholy that was absent in Eleazar's recollections.

"Personally," Eleazar continued, "I was always most impressed by Chelsea."

"Chelsea?" Edward asked, but Eleazar merely nodded.

"Oh, Aro's certainly intimidating, and of course Jane and Alec brought the world to their knees, but Chelsea keeps it all together."

Edward turned to look more properly at Eleazar.

"Ah, I suppose you haven't heard about her," Eleazar said, "She isn't discussed quite as often, less flashy than some of the others. You see, she forges loyalty. She forges it, and she removes it, like relationships are threads and she stands at the weave, deftly giving them form and matter according to her wishes. Or unravelling it all."

"Eleazar," Edward said quietly, but Eleazar kept talking.

"Of all of Aro's guard members, I would argue she is the one most like a witch. She even curls and stretches her fingers like she's pulling at invisible threads when she uses her gift - it's quite extraordinary, and more of an art than what Alec and Jane, or even Aro does."

"Eleazar," Edward said, too loudly perhaps, as his entire body felt somehow cold, ice cold, as if he'd been plunged into liquid nitrogen.

"Of course, she claims to have limits, they all did when I asked. She can't create something from nothing and she can't dismantle truly strong bonds. I suppose there is truth to that, in that when Aro asked that I choose between Carmen and Volterra, I chose my beloved Carmen. However, everyone agrees that the Volturi would disintegrate without her."

"Eleazar!" Edward cried, and Eleazar finally stopped.

"What?" he asked, light irritation at the interruption clouding his mind.

"How long has she been in Volterra?" Edward asked, his voice shaking. Eleazar had arrived after Carlisle, so, perhaps-

"Oh, a very long time," Eleazar said offhandedly, as if this were of middling importance, "She was there since the very beginning, I think, or close to it. She was the first to join the guard. It's been several thousand years at this point."

Edward didn't stay to listen to another word.

He should have, perhaps, Eleazar had proven to be an invaluable source of information, but–

He couldn't.

He needed to be alone with this thoughts, to think, to–

He now knew exactly what had happened to Carlisle.

Had happened long before he returned to Volterra, before Aro gave his fateful phone call. Before Edward ever even met him.

Edward ran, and he did not look back.