Esme's POV

I couldn't help but be excited as I waited for my husband to come home and show him my discovery. I abandoned any plans to work on anything and sat down on the couch, just admiring this mysterious trinket, letting an essay of thoughts and questions run through my head.

It doesn't work if you aren't touching the chain… You can go backwards in time, but not forwards. Time returns to normal when the past catches up with you… hmm, oddly poetic… Wait, how far back can I actually go? How did Emmett of all people come across this thing… God, time travel…this is crazy.

"Hello love,"

Carlisle's voice startled me out of my whirlwind of questions as he sat next to me. I glanced at the clock in shock. Had I really lost track of time that quickly.

"Hi," I said in a very nervous whisper to him, fidgeting with just the pendant.

"Is that the necklace Emmett got you?" He asked, noticing my fidgeting. His hand reached for it and I quickly snapped my hands away from his reach. He was momentarily shocked by my actions, but his face softened kindly, "Can I see it?" he asked sweetly. I looked over at him, his kind smile of curiosity met my eyes. I ignored his question.

"Ok…this is gonna make me sound insane… but there's something…different about this necklace…" I began slowly. He furrowed his brow.

"What does that mean?" he asked, the confusion very evident in his tone.

"This necklace can make you time travel," I said in the most serious of tone. Carlisle's expression was unreadable for a moment before it broke in a smile and he started chuckling.

"You have a much more wild imagination than I thought, love," he smiled at me, clearly not believing me. I frowned.

"You don't believe me?" I asked and he shook his head with a laugh.

"There's no such thing as time travel,"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Stand up," I told him firmly, as I stood before him. He casually stood in front of me. I took the chain and slipped it around both of our necks and held the pendant up so he could see it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and I hushed him.

"Showing you I'm not crazy," I snapped back. I slowly turned the pendant backwards and saw the shock in his face as he saw the same ghosts I had before, moving about. Except that this time, his ghost joined mine. When I stopped turning the pendant, Carlisle was frozen in shock as he watched my clone sitting in the couch.

"Hello love," came his voice as his own mirror image entered the room like he had a few minutes prior. My husband looked up at the sound of his own voice.

"Esme, what's going on?" he whispered, still frozen in place as our ghost images continued their conversation.

"They can't hear us, Carlisle," I assured him, using a normal speaking tone, proving that the clones could in fact, not. I turned my attention to the ghosts on the couch again.

"There's no such thing as time travel," the ghost of my husband said. Carlisle looked at me and I held up the pendant between us, and turned it forward again until our clones caught up with us. The thump hit Carlisle unexpectantly and he stumbled slightly. I reflexively grabbed his arm, to keep him from falling as I did. If he fell the chain might have snapped. He recovered from the blow and looked at me incredulously.

"Sorry, I should have warned you about that little jolt," I apologized, taking the chain back off our necks. He was staring at me, unable to find his own voice. "I told you I wasn't crazy," I teased awkwardly, trying to break the tension that hung between us.

"Holy shit," were the words that he exhaled shakily. Not words I ever expected from my husband, but it was an appropriate response for anyone who had just witnessed what he had. He reached out and touch the pendant as I held it between my fingers, "H-how? What?" he stuttered. I shrugged slowly.

"I really don't know," I admitted, "I discovered it by accident yesterday,"

"Yesterday?!" he gasped incredulously, "Why are you only telling me this now?" he asked, in a slightly demanding tone.

"I was freaked out after it happened. I was standing on the deck and then I was seeing déjà vu, and then I saw myself. Carlisle, I thought I was going crazy from hungry, or I had imagined it. I was scared to touch it again," I told him, "Turns out you have to be touching the chain for it to work," I added, almost too casually.

"Unbelievable…time travel," he breathed in disbelief. I nodded.

"I didn't believe it either. Until I spent a while this morning, messing around with it." I told him, holding up the pendant for him to see. He leaned closer, tapping the little sand filled hours glass with his fingernail.

"I thought the bizarreness in this family would end at hybrids. Now we've got time travel…" he said, in a reflective tone.

"I guess anything is possible. I mean there was a point where we all believed vampires weren't really," I pointed out. Carlisle nodded slightly, in clear agreement of the later statement. He looked at the edge of the pendant rings.

"What does the inscription say?" he asked, trying to read it. I recited the tiny print from memory.

"I mark the hours, every one, nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, are gauged by what you have to do."

"That's very spell-like poetry," he commented. I could see the little wheels turning in my husband's head, searching for an explanation.

"Witchcraft?" I asked, knowing my husband was familiar with the existence of such in his human days. He shrugged and shook his head with a very unsureness.

"I can't explain it, dear," he said, and after a pause, and a shared glance, he spoke again, "So…what now?" he asked me.

"I think we should at least try to keep this a secret from the kids. I don't want them messing with something like this. God only knows the chaos this would cause," I told him. Then one of my earlier questions floated back into my mind, "I wonder how far back it goes?" I wondered out loud and met my husbands gaze again.

"Do I want to know what you're thinking about?" he asked, slight worry etched into his expression. I smiled softly, unsurely.

"If it goes far enough back…I could…show you parts of my human life?" I suggested, the mere possibility of that was enough to make me smile. Carlisle always took any opportunity to hear stories about my human life whenever the fuzzy memories would surface. I notice Carlisle pursing his lips nervously.

"Hun, I don't know," he said, hesitation in his voice. I gave him slight pleading eyes. I didn't even have to say please. He just sighed after a moment, pulling me into his arms, "Ok," he whispered in my ear. I smiled against his shirt and stretched my neck up to press a kiss along his jaw. A gentle hand turned my head and he pressed his lips to mine. When our lips parted, our eyes met.

"How about we go pack a road trip bag, and we'll head out as soon as the sun goes down," he suggested. I nodded with a soft smile, leaning into him again.

OoO

"Is the house even still there?" Carlisle pondered out loud from within our closet. I looked up from the duffle bag I was throwing my clothes into.

"Which one?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.

"Both I guess," he said slowly. I zipped up my bag, throwing the last thing in. I contained a sigh, trying not to think about the worst half of my human life.

"I don't know. I haven't been to the farm in decades," I told him, "But I don't think that would matter with this thing," I added, as I put the "time turner", I had decided to dub it, in a little necklace box before putting it in my jacket pocket, "I think the house would just rebuilt itself as time passed backwards,"

When my parents passed, I inherited the farm in my name, posing as a distant relative, much like Edward had been doing with his human home, and had only been there twice in the past. The last time I was on the homestead had been back in the 50's, and the house was still standing in well enough condition that I could be habitable with major renovations.

Carlisle exited the closet with his own bag in one hand. I felt a hand rest against my back.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. I nodded, picking up my bag in one hand.

"I'll be ok," I assured him, linking his hand in mine, "Now come on," I said as we left our room and headed downstairs.

"I don't know if Alice has seen this, but we should still send them a text or leave a note here," Carlisle suggested as he gently took my bag from me at the front door. I nodded.

"I'll leave a note, and then shoot them a text on the road," I said, taking a pen form the counter, and writing a quick explanation on the note pad there as well.

We've gone on a road trip to Ohio and should be back before the end of the week.

We'll explain everything when we're back.

Call us when you get home.

Love Mom + Dad

I left the note on the counter where I knew they would see it, and followed my husband out to the car, locking the house behind me. I climbed into the passenger seat of the already running vehicle, buckling myself up before my husband joined me, slipping into his seat.

"How long is the drive?" I asked, knowing it would likely take less than a day to get there. We lived in a forested area 30 minutes northwest of Duluth, Minnesota; the city where my husband worked.

"About 12 hours," he said, buckling himself in, "We should get there right about the time the sun is coming back up," he added, just as the sun's final light started fading behind the horizon. It was 8 o'clock at night. We'd drive through the night and arrive at the farm property, which was tucked away in a forested area that was off a country road outside the city.

Carlisle and I were silent for an hour as we headed south on the 53. Though it was a comfortable silence. It broke when we passed the road sign pointing east towards Ashland. I felt Carlisle's free hand rest on top of my thigh. I sighed and looked out my window.

"We can stop on the way back?" he offered, reading me like a book, and knowing I was conflicted about going there. I rested my head against the glass.

"Maybe," I said, extremely softly. He offered me a sad smile.

"Come here, love," he said just as softly and I scooted closer to him, leaning over the center console and snuggling up to his right side, curling my hands around his bicep. His scent soothed me as his free hand bent back, touching my cheeks and stroking my hair. Briefly he turned his head to place a kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes for only a short while, the darkness and the sound of the car rumbling softly against road putting me in a relaxed trance. Behind my closed lids the blue lights of the dash panel, and the soft sound of the radio playing on the 60's channel kept me grounded to reality, keeping my mind from wandering.

OoO

I hadn't been sure how long I laid against my husbands arm until I opened my eyes and looked around, the 53 had, at some point, turned into interstate 90. I couldn't sense where we were until moments later, I spotted the overhead sign pointing east to Milwaukee. I had tuned out for nearly five hours? It felt like minutes.

I thought back to just over a century ago when I was staying with my cousin there. Carlisle had noticed me perk up from my perch on his arm and stroked my hand gently.

"Try not to think about the bad times," he said. Sometimes I wondered if he could read my mind like Edward. I met his eye for a moment, silent still, until I sighed, looking out at the road ahead.

"Milwaukee was good times… Even though I was running from the bad ones," I assured him softly, and after a moment of thinking and choosing words carefully I continued, "I can't not think about the bad times… They'll play out before my eyes again and you'll see why they haunt my memories," I told him. I felt the car briefly slow down from its excessive speed. As if to prevent himself from crashing as he processed my words.

"Esme, you're not-…you aren't gonna…. Please tell me you won't," he said, almost pleadingly, looking over. I closed my eyes, taking in his words. He didn't want me to go back and witness my own horrors and shames over again.

"Part of me doesn't want to," I said, frustrated, but soft spoken. Instant of reprimand me for it, he caught something…

"And the other part?" he asked, cautiously. I could tell his voice was shaken, and he spoke through gritted teeth. I reached out and grasped his wrist, notice the steering wheel was paying a price under the pressure of his fingers. His grip relaxed but he remained tense.

"Wants you to understand what I lived through…" I whispered. It was his turn to grab my wrist, though not a hard as I had his.

"I do understand," he told me, glancing periodically between me and the road.

"I want you to see…" I stopped him, correcting myself, before he could continue. His eyes looked both fearful and sad. His mouth hung slightly agape.

"Why?" he whispered, pleadingly. Only then was I hit with a wave of guilt for wanting to make my husband, a man who has never laid a hand on me aggressively, nor let another harm me, watch my younger self be tormented by my abuser.

"I-…." I couldn't speak. I was at a loss for words of my own actions. Carlisle's expression remained upset. I feared he was on the edge of crying. I swallowed the venom in my mouth, forcing the lump in my throat to leave, "When I first started talking to you,-…I know that you asked Edward what he saw in my memories. And I know that he told you…. He didn't tell me this until after I had opened up to you," I said to my husband, "So I know there's a part of you that wants to know what I went through-"

"Wanted" he said, sharply, still in a soft tone, but being sure to emphasise the past-tense of his word, "I used to want to know. Until I heard the story from you…" he sighed, a darkness clouding his eyes. Even in the almost dark car, I could see it, "The way you described the hell he put you through; I came up with this image in my head that I'm scared doesn't even compare to the reality. I don't like to think about it… I don't want to watch it happen in front of me like a movie I can't turn off," he confessed, and let out a shaky exhale, "Esme, I agreed to this thinking I'd see the happy person you were before I met you. I want to see you smiling and climbing tree's and getting muddy and teaching and pregnant and-"

He cut his rant off sharply, freezing with his eyes glued to the road. Again, the steering wheel was trying to hold out against the punishment his fingers were unintentionally inflicting on it. And again, I reached for his hands and felt them relax when he realized.

"I will show you that…" I promised, "That's the good… but with it, among it, in between it all, is the bad," I added, withdrawing my hands away from his, "The world is like… yin and yang. There's good, and there's bad. Within the good there's bad; I had a nice childhood, but I was still ordered about, and reprimanded, and punished when I was wrong. And then within the bad, there's a little bit of good; Charles was a cruel man, but he still taught me how to drive and how to pay the bills when I was alone during the war," I explained softly to my husband. My tone the only thing keeping him from snapping at the mention of my ex husband. I kept my composure as I spoke to him, and sat silently as I waited for a response. He was quiet for a minute until he inhaled slowly and let out a heavy exhale, letting his shoulders slump from their ridged posture.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. I leaned in again, taking up my previous spot, holding onto his arm and resting my cheek on his shoulder, "For better or for worse," he said quietly, leaning his head against mine.

OoO

Two hours later we were passing through Chicago on I-90 E. We were nowhere near my son's former home, but I was still thinking of him.

"I wonder if Edward would want to come here, and see his family again?" I pondered out loud. Carlisle looked over at me as I gazed out my window at passing buildings.

"I don't know," Carlisle said, clearly letting his own mind wander a bit, sifting through memories, "He never talked much of his parents when I first changed him. It wasn't until he was past his newborn year that he mentioned anything about them, his home, or his life," my husband explained. I sighed, looking over at him, "I would advise keeping quiet about any mention of time travelling with the kids," he warned, "They may react differently that you would hope,"

The thought plagued me. Every single one of us, excluding Bella, were brought into this second life without consent, without knowledge, and all of us had to abandon our families and friends. Carlisle was attacked and turned, forced to run away from his home. Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and I were all near death, and excluding me, none of them wanted to die at the time. Jasper had his life ripped away from him and became the puppet of his creator. And poor little Alice, locked up by her own father, her mother murdered, never to see her sister again, was dying slowly and painfully as they tortured her in that asylum.

I became so wrapped up in my thoughts I had barely noticed we were almost there as we crossed over interstate 70, heading south on 270. It would take us around the perimeter of Columbus before heading south down highway 23. The farm was tucked away behind a large dense area of trees, on a turn off just before you reached road 762. The exact coordinates had been engrained in my brain since I was a child.

39°46'55.0"N 82°59'43.4"W

The sun was coming up. Just the edge of the horizon was softly becoming a deep blue as it was nearing the early hours of morning. The roads were still quiet. I watched the city from a distance, admiring the lights as were drove the perimeter. Carlisle's hand slipped into mine, squeezing gently when he noticed my daze of admiration though my window.

The farm was only 20 more minutes south once onto highway 23. I sat up straight as Carlisle turned the car west onto a little dirt road, and drove slowly around a corner, revealing the farmhouse. In the dim light of morning my eyes could see the failing structure of my childhood home. The years had been cruel to its exterior. The white paint had long chipped away down to the raw lumber. The bricks of the chimney were cracking, threatening to collapse if the wind got too rough. The grass was long, thick, and green, in desperate need of a cut, even though it was only April. The chain holding the porch swing up had finally given way and pulled free of the wooden beam it was suspended to, leaving it in a slump on the porch; the porch that had a heavily worn path going up and down the stairs over the years. Despite the sad image of the house, and the mess that it lay in, I was happy to see no signs of vandalism. At least from the outside. As Carlisle parked on the grass that had grown over the once dirt road leading up to the front step, I looked further to the west, pursing my lips sadly as I noticed the entire roof of the barn had collapsed in. I sighed as he turned the engine off and undid his seatbelt. I mindlessly unbuckled mine, my gaze still fixed on the trees. I climbed out of the car slowly, scanning the land. The unkept nature of the yard and house made it obvious that it was abandoned.

I smiled, seeing a tractor plowing up the field behind the house. The field once belong to my family, and many seasons I had helped plow, plant, and harvest that field alongside my father and his farm hand. But I felt bad that the land was not being used when the property sat unoccupied, and hence I sold it to the neighbours. Two miles across the field was the granddaughter of the people who were once my family's neighbours. She and her husband were in their 50's now. She had inherited the family farm in 2000, and I had asked her, much like I had asked her mother and father before her, to keep an eye on the farm every few months and notify me if anything happened to it. I had posed as a descendant of my family each time their farm was handed down, limiting contact unless absolutely necessary.

I noticed the man in the tractor, the woman's husband, turn his attention towards us, furrowing his brow as he squinted, barely able to see who was in the yard. I stepped to where he could see me and waved a little signal that let the man know it was me. He smiled and turned back to his work, moseying along the field, churning up the dirt.

Thankfully for us, the sun would be hiding behind the clouds when it rose. I had not realized my husband had come and stood beside me. I stood with my arms crossed and surveyed the property again. Beside the collapsing barn was the huge American beech tree that stood tall, it's branches just beginning to bud new leaves. The tree I had fallen from at 16; 112 years ago. I knew the tree would fall eventually, as they only lived about 150 to 200 years. But for now, it stood as the strongest and most intact thing on the farm.

"You should think about restoring this place one of these days," my husband suggested, resting a hand on my back. I sighed. I should. But there was something about seeing the farm's original beauty. As much as I loved a good restoration on an old building, I couldn't do this one. Not responding to my husbands' comments, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the little box with the necklace in it. I saw my husband shift nervously as I held it in my hand, tucking the box back in my pocket.

I motioned for him to turn and face me. I held onto his hand, wrapping he chain around our twined fingers, binding them together. The held up the pendant, Carlisle's tangled hand following mine, and I held the little nobs gently between my fingers.

"Don't let go of the chain when we go back," I told him, "Everything just stops moving,"

"How far are you going?" he asked, the nervousness in his voice was still evident.

"1895," I said, with a soft smile that momentarily made him smile as well.

"Ok," he whispered tenderly.