Important: there's a very strong term used for a character in this chapter, but it's the character's reaction, and I couldn't rewrite it, so it remains.
Chapter 4
The acrid odour of bleach lifted from the space by the table when Carys made her way back to the living room. It overpowered her senses, and so she gave it a wide berth.
The dark bloodstain was stubborn and needed to be soaked for longer; the white tablecloth lay across the damaged table, the ripped edges hanging low.
The cake was a distant memory, it had been cleared away, and the broken glass swept up.
"They're getting Bella something to wear," Esme explained when Carys dragged herself towards the sofa and realised Bella was missing from the room. The "not saturated with blood" was left unspoken, but clearly implied.
"You shouldn't be up, love." Carlisle left Edward's side and approached Carys. From the outside it might seem as if they'd been conducting a one-sided conversation, but Carys knew better. Similarly, to a casual observer, his tone and stride might have appeared relaxed and untroubled, but he all but flew across the space. "Where does it hurt?"
"My back, and..." Carys trailed off, blinking a little slowly. She suddenly felt as if she'd had a few drinks; the meds must only just have been fully kicking in.
"Apart from your back, where does it hurt?" Carlisle repeated softly, his head tilted, more than used to gathering information from medicated humans.
"The codeine helped, but it's my side, I think-"
Edward cut Carys off with a loud scoff, drawing her attention, and causing Esme to snap her head round in his direction. To glare at him, Carys imagined. It was what she felt like doing.
He was likely still annoyed with Carys' comment, that he was: being an arse. She imagined if he was actually seventeen, and not in fact over a hundred years old, she wouldn't have made that particular point, but he was, and so she had.
"Her side," Edward repeated needlessly, almost spitting the word. "Alice broke he-"
"Don't," Carys whispered, jabbing a finger towards the ceiling, indicating the floor above, where she knew Alice could hear every word. "One, I don't know anything's broken yet; it could be a muscle. And two-"
"Two," Edward hissed. "You told Alice not to have this party in the first place, and now look what's happened. Alice could have killed you. Jasper could have killed-"
"Alice was only trying to help-ah!" Carys inhaled sharply and winced when Carlisle's questing fingers probed lightly at her right side, the source of the snap and the worst of her lingering pain.
"Sorry," he apologised, focused on his work with a veneer of professional regard, though his hands trembled slightly and betrayed his emotion. "It would seem Edward's correct in this instance."
"About what? The ribs, or-ow! Fuck. Carlisle." Her back burned where he pressed at her skin.
"One broken rib, and two fractured, I'd say." He retained his usual calm and looked across the room, adding, "I don't appreciate you using that tone, cutting across Carys, or blaming anyone for what might have happened, Edward. Jasper feels bad enough as it is, and Alice was merely trying to protect her, as she said. They need our support and understanding, not our judgement."
"How can you say that, Carlisle? Look at her. Look at Bella. Do you think this would have happened if we weren't so dangerous?"
"My ribs will heal, Bella will hea-"
"She could have died," Edward cut across her again, tempering his roar so that his words wouldn't reach Bella. "So could you! She's human. You're human. Neither of you should be-"
"Stop this, Edward." Carlisle's tone brooked no argument from his son, though it was clear far more was said between them in the silence before Edward looked away. "We'll discuss this properly once Bella's home and I've had a chance to treat Carys."
Carys touched his forearm, and he straightened, running his fingertips gently over her cheekbone; his eyes softened as he looked her over, his gaze lingering on her jaw and eyes.
"I'll be as careful as I can," he assured her, "but there's a likelihood the examination will be painful, even with the codeine."
"It's not just my ribs," Carys breathed in his ear, reminding him of what he already knew, when Alice and Bella's return to the room drew Edward and Esme's attention.
He squeezed her hand, hard, and nodded. "I know. If it's too bad to treat here, I'll take you to the hospital."
Carys bit her lip and squeezed his hand again while Bella walked toward Edward, hesitant as to her reception.
Alice ran in the opposite direction and scooped up the discarded presents, darting across to retrieve Bella's camera from beneath the piano. "Take your things!" she cried, running back across the room and sliding to a stop beside her friend.
It was strange to watch after all that had happened; to see the presents piled in Alice's small hands.
Esme had bought Bella a first edition copy of Mansfield Park. Carys and Carlisle given her two return tickets to Phoenix and a $100 Converse gift voucher. She still didn't know what Alice and Edward had bought her, but somehow none of it seemed quite enough.
"You can thank me later," Alice insisted, her large eyes bright and hopeful, "after you've opened them."
Carys' stomach dropped. It added to her fear that whatever Carlisle said, the night had caused irreparable damage to the human/vampire relationships in the family.
Carlisle stopped her with an arm around the front of her waist when she turned away from the stilted exchange, and pressed his lips to her hair.
"I'll get my things and meet you in the bathroom," he murmured.
Carys gently patted his hand, made a small, soft hum of assent from the back of her throat, and forced a smile - more for the others than for him.
It was more difficult than she hoped, to ignore their meaningful glances when she passed; Alice must have told Bella, she was watching her with the same, falsely cheerful, smile - though it was a far less exuberant expression on her compared with to the ones Alice or Esme had plastered upon their pale faces.
Edward's face remained curiously blank.
When she reached the bathroom off the living room, Carys closed the door and leaned gingerly against it, pressing her head back to the wood. She let out a shuddery breath and allowed her composure to slide away completely.
Tears pricked her eyes and twitched her nose; each of the house's spacious bathrooms had been soundproofed over the summer, but she refused to let herself cry.
The last thing she wanted was for Alice or Jasper, whom she loved so much, to think any of this had been their fault, for them to blame themselves for what had happened.
And yet, perhaps Edward might have been partially correct. Had she been so blinded by what she and Carlisle saw in his family that she'd forgotten their power? The risk? The fear of vampires that had once made her blood turn to ice and bile burn her throat?
No.
When she tried, it was too strange, too unnatural, to be afraid of them.
No matter what had transpired.
She smiled at the mirror and her mildly tipsy reflection smiled back; that would annoy Edward, she was sure.
Carys stared at herself for a moment and changed track, searching for a new train of thought as she waited for Carlisle to join her.
That wasn't a good idea, she realised a moment later, when the switch, predictable after the night before and Carlisle's speech in the kitchen, had been made.
Carlisle's wistful, almost longing, reference to "the kind of face I would have wanted my son to have," had pained her. It had reminded her again of the thoughts Carlisle had distracted her from the night before; the same thoughts she'd first addressed in California back in March, when she started the list of things she wanted from her human life.
Children.
Or, the lack thereof.
She'd gone back and forth as a teenager, never quite coming to the same conclusion each time she'd read a book, or seen a film, or overheard a conversation on the subject.
In March, when she'd suddenly been confronted with the knowledge that in choosing Carlisle, she was giving up the possibility entirely, her debates had ended, in favour of one that asked: did the occasional pain come from the loss of potential, or had she always wanted them really?
Alice may look to her as a mother of sorts, and Emmett called her Ma whenever he got the chance... But how many years would it take for her view them the same way? For the others to see her in the manner Carlisle likely expected them to one day?
She couldn't imagine Edward (who she fully expected was now well on his way to Forks with Bella), Jasper, or Rosalie seeing her as more than a friend, and despite the title Emmett had given her, she doubted it was more than a nickname.
Esme didn't quite count in the same way - she was a sister, one who would one day be younger than her, but could never be considered as anything else.
Carys crossed to the mirror and avoided her troubled, thoughtful, slightly dazed gaze, staring at the sink instead, where her hands gripped the porcelain until her knuckles paled.
There was a knock at the door, and Carys looked up, sniffed lightly, stared at the ceiling as she blinked back the evidence of her tears, and then checked her makeup as best she could, and stepped away.
There was no point in replying to the knock.
Carlisle likely wouldn't have heard her even if she'd trusted her voice not to tremble. He was giving her a moment to compose herself, and she appreciated his kindness.
"How's Jasper?" She asked the moment he slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself with a soft click.
Somehow, despite the blood he'd encountered, his crisp light blue shirt remained spotless.
Her hand itched to smooth his collar or twitch an absent tie back into place.
Carlisle set his bag down on the counter and lifted the tap, dipping his hands under the strong flow for a moment before he added soap. "Alice is with him," he said succinctly whilst he worked methodically, washing and drying his hands, all whilst keeping a watchful eye on her in the mirror.
Carys watched him back.
She stared at his golden blonde hair, shining under the glare of the lights overhead; she studied his painfully handsome, almost too perfect, features when he straightened. His broad shoulders captured her attention for a moment; despite her heels and five feet ten inches, he was taller than her. Her gaze lingered on his jaw, which flexed the moment before his Adam's apple bobbed and he moved to stand behind her.
Before she could stop herself, she was blurting out, "What colour were your eyes?"
Carlisle stilled, his fingers on the zip at the back of her dress. He met her gaze in the mirror, his eyes a shade darker than old gold in the bright light. He blinked a couple of times before he answered.
"Blue..., I think," he told her eventually. "Or perhaps more of a grey."
He returned his attention to her zip and she felt the fabric pull at the nape of her neck, though he hesitated, and she took the opportunity to press him again.
She turned her head towards him, but kept her eyes on his reflection. "Do you ever wonder...?"
Carlisle stopped again, staring at her shoulder, and pressed his lips together. He wasn't impatient, rather, it felt as if he welcomed the momentary distraction.
"D'you ever wonder what it would've been like...," she explained, keeping her voice low, "if we'd met in your time?"
"If we were both human?" He asked softly.
"Yes... I think about it sometimes," she admitted. "Do you?"
Carlisle slowly dropped his forehead to her temple, hiding his expression from the mirror before them.
"Yes," he whispered. "Are you asking because you're hurt? Do you agree with Edward?" His tone suggested he was more surprised than expectant.
"No, of course not," Carys dismissed, running her hand over the part of him she could easily reach, the side of his leg. "No. I meant..., do you think we'd've been together?"
Carlisle sighed in apparent relief. "Well, I can't imagine meeting you and not loving you."
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either.
Carys turned in his arms a little, to see his face again. "I don't reckon there must've been many people rocking about looking like me back then, but-"
"London has always been multicultural," Carlisle refuted easily, "I just can't be sure what my father would have said if I wanted to marry you."
She searched his face, assessing his reaction. "Because I'm mixed-race?"
Carlisle closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm not sure what his thoughts would be on that and wouldn't want to speak for him. No, because you're an atheist with a bachelor's degree, you live alone, swear, and you're engaged in premarital relations. You also drink... And your parents weren't married. He'd probably think you were a witch."
Carys grinned. She imagined it would hurt too much to laugh, even softly. "You might be turning me into an agnostic," she accused. "And you don't seem to have a problem with any of those things. I don't think I need to remind you that you actively encourage one point on your list."
"No, but then again, he wouldn't approve of me either." He opened his eyes and visibly shook himself, pulling back. His faint smile dropped, and he placed his hands on her waist to turn her back towards the mirror. "I'm going to unzip your dress now, tell me if it hurts. I need to be your doctor, Carys... It's the only way I can get through this."
Carys gripped his hand and nodded slowly. "I'm ready."
"We'd have at least one girl," he announced suddenly, studying the zip thoughtfully as he returned his hands to the nape of her neck. "A girl, named after our mothers. Amy Henrietta Cullen."
Carys' vision blurred but she grinned through it, her eyes half-closed. "Sounds like a vicar's daughter," she informed him.
"Exactly."
"...And a boy?"
"Named after anyone but our fathers."
"Brilliant choice. It'd have to be Henry Findlay, then, just to make it obvious enough," Carys said after a moment. It made her feel better that he'd given it as much thought as she had. More, really.
They'd talked about it here and there, but both had skirted the crux of the issue. It was nice to know that it was simply because neither of them had asked, not because either was dreading the conversation when it came.
The fabric at Carys' back tugged and released, and she realised how strange the conversation must have been for Carlisle, and how obvious it seemed to her in her current state.
Carlisle's eyes widened and he swore under his breath. Carys caught it in the mirror.
She took as deep a breath as she could without hurting herself. "Now you're the one swearing... How bad?" She asked.
Carlisle eased the dress over her shoulders and down her arms. He didn't answer for several minutes, not properly, anyway, until he'd unhooked her bra (asking for permission she thought was implicit given the relationship and the area of her injury), and had examined every part of her back and shoulders whilst she covered herself.
He paused each time she let out the slightest moan or whimper, checking in constantly: if this hurt, if that was tender, if the cold of his hand soothed or worsened the pain, if she could bear taking a deep breath so he could use his stethoscope to check her lungs.
Finally, he moved away and began to rummage through his bag.
"You have some deep bruising across your upper back and shoulders, but it looks worse than it is. No sign of hematoma, thank God. Two fractured ribs, one broken. You're lucky you were in the brace position."
"How broken?" Carys queried with a squint when he returned to his position behind her, unscrewing the lid of a small tube.
"A small break. It should heal well, but I want to set up an x-ray in the next couple of days all the same."
"Jesus. What's Alice made of?"
"Stone," he replied distractedly.
"Wha'does it mean though? Do I need them taped or something?"
Carlisle affected the tone she'd heard him use with countless patients over the past two years, and rubbed a measure of cream between his hands for a moment before he began to smooth it into her bruised skin.
"Unfortunately, there's not much I can do other than to prescribe you pain medication, a cream for your bruises, and recommend you apply ice packs to your ribs... I advise at least three weeks of rest and recovery so that you can heal, and I'll monitor you for whiplash over the next couple of days, but it's unlikely given the position and severity of your injuries."
Carys' jaw dropped. "Carlisle, I can't take that much time off work - I already took three weeks', two of which were unpaid, in March. And I had to fight for Christmas too," she complained, her voice annoyingly shrill to her ears.
Carlisle pulled away and recapped the tube, then dropped it into his bag and flicked on the tap to wash his hands again, his professional facade falling away in an instant. "You will, Carys. This isn't up for discussion."
"Are you saying that as-"
Carlisle cut across her, not unkindly. "I'm saying this as your doctor. If you'd like a second opinion, Sarah or Dr Snow would say the same."
"This is ridiculous!"
"No, Carys, what's ridiculous is you arguing with me when you're still in pain after two codeine tablets," he replied, a little defensively. It was only because she knew him so well that she could hear it through the persistent calm of his voice.
He had a point. She hated it, but he had a point.
Carys tugged her dress up when the cream started to work its magic, and ignored her impulse to argue. Carlisle helped her without a word when she got stuck, and discarded her bra. She had to admit she felt better without it.
"If you were in this much pain, why didn't you tell me?"
"Bella was bleeding out," she replied, as if it were entirely obvious a decision to have made. "If I wasn't me, you wouldn't be asking that."
Carlisle sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That doesn't mean I'm happy about it," he told her with a frown. "One of us needs to be more selfish, and it's going to have to be you."
Carys laughed bitterly and then drew in a sharp breath when her ribs protested the movement. "Why me?"
"You're younger," he reminded her as if it answered her question. "And I shouldn't have to wait for a-" he lowered his voice and whispered, "-bloody hour, to find out how badly you're hurt. Either you be a little more selfish from now on, or I'll have to break the habit of several lifetimes and do it for you."
"Well, I'm far less happy about potentially losing my job than you are that you had to wait an hour to treat me," Carys countered, grasping his shirt. "What's going to happen now?" She asked a moment later, as if an afterthought.
Carlisle settled his arms loosely around her, holding her carefully against his chest. Carys wanted to childishly return to their argument, but she couldn't think what her point might be. It wasn't just the codeine; Carlisle was frustratingly right to be so concerned.
"Edward wants to call a meeting," he told her.
"Am I invited?" Carys asked, thinking about how the others might feel, having a human in the room so soon after everything had happened.
"If you're awake," Carlisle promised, speaking against her hair. "I'm not sure when Edward will get back, and the codeine might knock you out by then."
"Has he told you what he wants?"
"... He thinks it would be safer for Bella if he leaves-"
"No! You can't!" Carys glared, then thought for a moment, and intensified her expression. "That little shit..."
Carlisle"s eyebrows shot up and he stepped away. "Excuse me?"
"If he leaves, you all leave. The bastard knows that. Little, fucking shit," she added under her breath, speaking her thoughts aloud and slipping further than she would usually even if in the privacy of her own mind.
Now that was definitely the codeine. Not even alcohol would have her calling someone what she had.
"Carys," Carlisle warned softly, his eyes glinting. "I'd remind you this is my son you're swearing about, and we don't know that."
Good, you can keep him then, she thought, all but stamping her foot. She didn't want to claim him.
"I'm not blind to the loyalties in the house," Carys explained through gritted teeth, gathering her thoughts. "If he leaves, he'll be able to convince Alice to join him, which means Jasper goes too. Rosalie still isn't sold on humans giving up their lives if they have a choice, so even though it'd hurt her to give up the chance at a longer life here, he'd be able to convince her too. Esme's loyalty is to you all, but Edward's clearly her favourite, and Emmett follows Rosalie. Therefore, he's a little fucking shit. All that's left is you."
"Oh." Carlisle's whispered, his expression blank as he followed her train of thought. "Without any of them left, I'd have to go as well. The questions that would be asked if my children suddenly disappeared would-"
"And Bella," Carys added quickly, seething, "would be left completely alone, abandoned. You saw them together. What would that do to her? What would she think about herself?"
They fell into an uneasy silence.
After a minute or two, when Carys lifted her hand and opened her mouth to make another point, Carlisle came back to life and clenched his jaw.
"I need to speak to Alice," he announced, leaving the room quickly. Carys waited, and sure enough, he returned in a flash a moment later and lifted her gently into his arms, adding, "I have to argue with your assessment of Edward."
"I stand by it," Carys told him, her tone stern. "If does this, he's a-"
"I don't agree with the swearing, but the main part is that he's not little," Carlisle replied, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "He knows exactly what he's doing. I just have to put my faith in him making the right decision in the end."
"You promise you'll fight him?"
"Alice is the lynchpin," Carlisle replied, carrying her through to the living room, his long strides not jolting her in the slightest. "If Edward gets to her..."
Esme, the only other occupant of the room, sat unsmiling on one of the sofas, having heard part of their conversation with the door open as it was. Carys thought Carlisle could have filled her in on the rest in the moments he was gone.
When Carlisle laid Carys down and fussed over the arrangement of cushions, Esme met her eye and out and out laughed at the sloth-like smile she sent her.
"Don't worry," she told her, seriously. "You go to sleep and leave it to us. Edward's not the only one with pull in this family, and with the three of us set on everyone staying, we should be fine."
Carys and Carlisle shared a look that said: "we hope."
Or, rather, his did.
Hers said something more along the lines of: "I have no idea why you're looking at me like that, but once we're alone, I'll ask..."
None of them, perhaps foolishly, predicted just how stubborn Edward would be in his resolve, despite the pain it would cause his family, Bella, and Carys, or how easily his abilities would allow him to judge where the land lay and wait.
For three and a half weeks.
Until the bruises on Carys' back had healed, and her ribs were bearable enough without stronger medication for her to return to work. Until Esme had returned to college, and Emmett and Rosalie to their travels. Until Jasper, left alone for much of the day in the house where he'd lost control, surpassed guilt to self-loathing. Until Alice could see nothing past the family leaving, despite Carlisle's insistence that they should stay when Edward called for a smaller second meeting.
By the time any of them realised what he was doing, the inevitable had happened: Edward had his way, and the Cullens arranged to leave Forks, leaving Bella brokenhearted in their wake.
Carlisle spent the night after the vote at Carys' house, as he had for nearly a month, and like Edward had, they formed a plan.
Carlisle had no choice but to follow his family and try to convince them to return to Forks, but Carys would stay - not only so that she could retain her life there (which she all but refused to give up as much as Carlisle refused to let her), but so that she could check in on Bella when they left and make sure she knew she wasn't alone.
They would see each other as often as they could, and if the Cullens hadn't returned by graduation, Carlisle would come back on his own.
Carlisle wasn't as new to guilt tripping as she'd expected when she'd suggested it as a last resort to bring their family back. His proposal that they could push their wedding forward a year or two if all else failed and thereby force Edward and Alice's return to Bella was diabolical, genius, and, might just work.
They knew they wanted to be married, and had an eternity ahead of them to figure out if they wanted to repeat the vows they held in their hearts since Carlisle had gifted her his mother's pendants.
Carys didn't mind when they had the celebration anymore. Not after she'd seen the disappointment in his face.
No, that wasn't quite right.
Carys couldn't say that Carlisle was simply angry or disappointed in Edward, and to some degree, Alice, that night.
She'd rather say he was disappointed, shocked, and hurt to his very core that, fully aware of the consequences to them all, his son would leave his soulmate, and force Carlisle to do so as well.
A/N: I'm overwhelmed! Thank you to Sting3, Ella (yup, Carys and I agree - it's not for Bella to drive a wedge by asking Carlisle to change her or start an immortal life like that - it wouldn't be fair. More than Edward, it would drive a wedge with Rose too, and go against his sentiments. There were only ever two options, and it's strange Edward thought he could bypass them somehow! Yes, it won't be easy!), chellekathrynnn, marylopez0812, Claire (yay! A bingeable story is my ultimate goal!), MOI (he was! And unfair to Alice and his family as well!), Guest (he's the king of overreaction and rash decisions! I'm sorry about Jasper - but I don't think he would have been able to face Carys or Bella just yet!), Guest (I wish - I tried, but I couldn't see past it once I read a snippet of Midnight Sun - he was planning to leave her before they even went to prom!), Ghostwriter71, ASimpleTeenager, souverian, CarlaPA, Lizzie B (some of their relationship is so messed up! He doesn't act either of his ages!), and Love. Fiction. 2020 for your reviews!
