Chapter coming up is soppy and was supposed to be from Carys' POV as usual, but Guest asked about Carlisle's missing Carys so I thought about what he must be feeling, and it ended up having them both even though I didn't initially plan on it!
Chapter 8
"Of all the days... Of all the bloody, bloody days..."
Almost two weeks after she'd decided to take control of her situation, Carys sat in her small black-and-white tiled bathroom and dropped her head into her hands.
It was Friday morning, she was roughly thirteen hours away from seeing Carlisle for the first time in two months, and there was a spanner in the works. A giant spanner. One she'd not expected for another week.
The disappointment that she'd be spending the weekend with Carlisle in varying degrees of pain rather than pleasure was strong enough to call forth her frustrated complaints. Was it too much to ask that they could finally be intimate again - sexually, at least, for the first time since before Bella's party?
First, it had been Carlisle's concern for her ribs and bruises that prevented them, then it was their separation. Now, it was her traitorous bloody body, which had suddenly forgotten how to read a calendar for the first time in over two years.
Carys finished her morning ablutions, brushed her teeth, and padded back to her bedroom, where she dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Angling her head to better focus on the crack she hadn't noticed before - which was glaringly obvious from the new position, she tried to will herself to get up again.
Getting up again meant confronting the day ahead - spending much of it at work, and then driving three hours through waning light to get to Seattle. She wondered if the whole idea of: the ends justify the means could be used in this case.
Could she just skip work?
The ends would involve a head-start on the weekend - which would now consist mostly of hot water bottles, chocolate, laying in Carlisle's arms talking for hours, and watching old movies, as opposed to: dinner, dancing, visiting the Needle, and spending a lot of time in bed, making love.
Carys pushed herself up onto her elbows and sighed, then rubbed a hand over her eyes and shifted her aching body across the bed until she could grab at the bedside cabinet, where she kept the paracetamol.
She'd have to go in.
After spending the preceding Saturday driving to Seattle and back in silence with Bella, she'd gone home and thought even more about what she wanted and didn't want from Forks.
The music-free (at Bella's behest) trip had made her agitated. It had grated on her fraying nerves, and made her realise she needed to slow down and give herself some rest before she went looking for something else to bring her out of her low mood.
That Monday, after discovering the part-time general admin was looking to increase their hours, she'd quickly suggested she lower her days to three and a half a week, essentially solving two problems at once.
Sandra was mulling over the proposal; Carys didn't want to risk anything until either a new contract was signed, or she knew she'd be looking for a new job.
So that meant going to work.
Carys swallowed the pills dry and waited until they'd taken effect before she hauled herself back to standing, checked the time and saw how late she was running, then spent the next fifteen minutes cursing and rushing about to get ready before she fled her house in favour of her car.
By the end of the day, Carys had reached for her phone no less than ten times with the intention to text Carlisle and ask him to come to Forks instead but decided against it each time. Not only had he made dinner and hotel reservations in Seattle, but she'd been tasked with grabbing Charlie's jack for Monica from Richard when he'd finally returned her calls after a week and agreed to drop it at the hotel reception.
The trip was made easier by blasting her revamped driving playlist, but when she handed her keys to the valet and grabbed her overnight bag from the trunk, Carys wanted nothing more than to get to the hotel and pass out in Carlisle's arms.
The lobby was relatively large and sparsely decorated, but cosy at the same time - a likely result of the two wood fires, crackling pleasantly away in their grates at either side of the white marble lobby. There was a distinct aroma of spice on the air that called forth memories of mulled wine and spiced rum cake from Carys' Christmases in London. Despite the hour, there were only a few people occupying the area, which made it appear larger still.
Carys was a little thrown when she gave Carlisle's name to the receptionist and the woman immediately called for another receptionist to take her place. Hannah, as her nametag announced, beckoned for someone to take Carys' bag, then led their small group through the lobby and stepped onto the lift. When she pressed the button labelled PH, Carys nearly banged her head against the closing doors.
Of course.
Certain courtesies were probably expected when you were spending thousands a night. Carys' belated realisation was compounded by the sly glances the brunette receptionist cast in her direction whilst they waited for the lift to reach the top floor. Faint music flowed from somewhere above their heads.
"Long drive," Carys explained awkwardly, adjusting her slightly rumpled black dress and coat in the mirrored door.
She'd planned on looking chic for her dinner with Carlisle. She hadn't thought what work, rain, and three hours in her car might do to her plans. Trying to smooth out the wrinkles would be fruitless, and she didn't want to bring more faintly judgemental attention to herself.
She glanced up at the small screen which indicated the floor and forced herself not to try and fix her hair.
They weren't a quarter of the way up when Carys' anxiety began to spike.
"Er, your dress is lovely," she offered, glancing at the woman's name tag again before adding, "Hannah."
Hannah's lips quirked before she controlled her expression and her professional mask fell back into place on a nod.
"It's our uniform," she told Carys, sharing a glance with the bellhop.
"Oh, I mean, of course... It's still lovely, though. Suits you. The colour."
"I wouldn't get her started on that," the bellhop chimed in amiably, and Carys turned to see that his name was Martin.
"How so?"
Hannah and Martin shared another look before Hannah looked Carys over one more time, and obviously saw something there that judged her worthy of sharing the information, because she smoothed a hand over her perfectly pinned chignon and said:
"Well. This place was always amazing, of course."
"Of course," Carys supplied when she realised Hannah was waiting for a response, though she doubted the truth of the statement.
"But last year we were pretty much bought out by a private investment firm, Whitlock Holdings, and - well, not much changed, but-"
Hannah cast a cursory wave over her dark green dress, and Carys dismissed the name, Whitlock. She hoped it wasn't the same Whitlock she knew - that would be too convenient.
"-since then, we get better pay and new uniforms every four to six months, and there's an in-house tailor whenever we need anything adjusted."
Ah. So Jasper and Alice owned a hotel. She tried not to laugh. Of course they did.
"Just for you guys?"
Hannah nodded, clearly happy with Carys' appropriately tempered response.
"This season it's Christmas colours, but tastefully done," she described, on a rush of enthusiastic praise that made Carys grin. "I went brunette because it's so much better with this green than the red option."
Carys felt her face fall. She wasn't sure how to reply to that, or what to think about Hannah's willingness to change her hair to better match a uniform. She was about to ask what was so bad about red when they reached the top floor.
The doors opened; all three of them gasped.
Carys had forgotten just how forceful her reaction to Carlisle could be. She'd become used to it when he was constantly there. Two months without him had withdrawn her partial-immunity. When she saw him, waiting for her by the round table in the middle of the entryway, her stomach tied itself in knots.
Her palms itched, breath hitched, and even if she could have helped the besotted grin that lifted her tired features, she wouldn't have wanted to.
Carlisle was dressed similarly to the way he had been when she'd last seen him; a black v-neck jumper which moulded itself to his frame, sleeves pushed part-way up his forearms, dark jeans, and glowing golden eyes which locked on her the instant she came into view.
He'd hunted recently.
"Oh, he's gorgeous, isn't he?" Hannah whispered, unaware that Carlisle could hear her clear as day, and seemingly oblivious to Carys' continued presence. "I wouldn't mind-"
Carys blinked, hard, scoffed, and turned to stare at Hannah, who blanched just as Martin muttered:
"... don't even swing that way, but-"
He, too, cut off when Carys raised an eyebrow at him and held her hand out for her bag. She changed her previous assessment of the situation. They'd come to get another look at Carlisle. She supposed she couldn't blame them, but she wanted to.
There was a palpable shift in the air when the pair appeared to reassess Carys' position.
"Thank you for your help." Carlisle had taken advantage of the silence to approach and slid his arm around Carys' waist whilst he spoke. "And for taking such good care of my wife."
Carys covered her surprised and amused intake of breath by clearing her throat, and stepped out of the lift before the doors closed.
Carlisle held a finger to his lips, cocked his head to the side, then nodded when the lift was apparently out of earshot.
Carys wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his neck, and gave in to the peals of laughter that bubbled up.
"Oh my god," she gasped minutes later, swiping at her eyes, her words warped by continued amusement. "Is-is that what-oh my god, is that what you go through!?" If Carlisle hadn't been holding her up, she might have ended up on the floor. "Was I like that!?"
Carlisle, who appeared far more resigned than amused, nodded. "It's an occupational hazard, made worse when people don't think they'll see us again."
Carlisle's dry tone, expression, and explanation called forth another round of laughter, during which the words "occupational" and "vampire" were squealed. It lasted long after he'd swung Carys into his arms, carried her through to the sitting area, and deposited her on the sofa.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Carys cried, wiping her eyes and checking her hands. "I'm sorry, it's just so. It's just so-" Her voice broke, her laughter descending to sobs that wracked her and pulled at the muscles in her side. "I don't know what-it's just so-"
"I know," Carlisle soothed, tucking her against his chest and rocking her back and forth as if her reaction was far more normal than Carys thought it was. "I know."
"-I've just-"
"I know."
"I've missed you, so much, and-and then-"
"I know, Darling."
"-such a ridiculous-"
"Carys..."
"-they just-I-it-they-and I, I don't know if I ca-can-"
Carlisle held her as she cried, whispering gently, and piecing together garbled speech until he understood the source of her initial amusement, and more concerningly, her sadness.
Relief flooded him, and he rested his cheek against her soft, satiny curls when she gave him enough to work with.
Carys had missed him.
The combination of that, exhaustion, their ultimately chaste reunion, the awkward ride in the elevator, and the comments of the staff had hit her harder than she'd expected it to.
Carlisle decided he wouldn't mention their comments to Jasper. Or Alice. Carys was used to his appearance; it had never seemed to affect her as it did others, and she wouldn't thank him for losing them their jobs over it. He would, however, request a formal apology before Carys and he left. They'd contributed to Carys' tears, and he wouldn't stand for that.
She'd missed him.
If what he could tell of her sleeping pattern since he'd left was correct, and if he factored in the amount of time they each spent distracting themselves, he estimated they spent just as much of their time missing each other. His brain worked faster, but he'd calculated relatively whilst he waited for her to arrive.
He couldn't underestimate the strength and depth of human emotions either.
Emotions often affected them physically; they could be beneficial or detrimental to their health; the relief of Carys' emotions was likely cathartic, and it would do her good to excise them.
Carys stopped crying, and he curled around her, stroking his hands up and down her back. He paused for a fraction of a second. Would she think him emotionally detached if he massaged her taut muscles, or would she understand that it was one of the things he'd thought about near constantly since they'd parted? That her back might hurt, and he wouldn't be there to help relieve her pain?
He abandoned the silly thought and returned to his actions. There would be time for that, and to check her ribs, once she felt better.
His mind wandered again in an attempt to escape the worst of the pain her tears caused his heart.
He should call down for hot water bottles. They helped her sleep at times like this. And chocolate. Perhaps they'd watch a film. They'd stay in and have room service, he decided. He could push their reservations.
All he'd really wanted from the weekend was to hold her in his arms for fourty-eight hours.
It was all he'd wanted for months, all he'd needed for months.
No matter how hard he tried, his family believed Edward - that it was best for Bella, and themselves, to protect her by staying away. How many times had he thought about going after Edward and forcing him to come back? How many times had he tried to call him, to appeal to him, and found that Alice was the only person he would pick up the phone to?
Leaving had broken his heart. Holding Carys in his arms healed him, if only for a short while before they parted again.
He pressed his cheek to her hair and lost track of time as he held her in his arms, surrounding himself with her sweet scent, enjoying her dizzying warmth and softness; he lost himself and found solace. He wanted to hold her forever, and beg her to ask him to go back with her, but he knew he couldn't even if she asked. Instead, he settled for what he could have.
"It's not because I'm on my period," Carys whispered suddenly, breaking the silence.
Her period? He thought, confused.
The blood was different - she knew it was unappealing to vampires, and he hardly noticed the scent in the first place - just enough to know when it affected her. Of course it wasn't because of-oh. She was referencing her emotions.
"The thought hadn't crossed my mind," Carlisle assured her softly. "How are you feeling now?"
"Better? Stupid mostly."
"Don't, Darling, there's no need; nothing stupid about it. I wasn't all too happy about what they said once the elevator doors closed, either."
It was an understatement. To know they'd been looking at him and judging his worth based on his looks made Carlisle feel awkward, but he was used to it.
Knowing they'd looked at Carys in that way made something jab and squeeze deep in his belly. He was afraid it was the same emotion he'd begun to feel since knowing her. Jealousy that strangers she wasn't interested in knowing had been able to spend time in her presence that he hadn't.
He should have met her in the lobby. Given them two minutes more together.
Carys sat up and readjusted herself in his arms. He immediately rethought his decision not to tell Jasper. Her reddened cheeks, puffy eyes, and tracks of tears wounded him, and called to the part of himself that demanded he protect her above all else.
"What did they say?"
"That they weren't sure who had the better deal in the marriage."
Carys laughed again, a watery, gulping, happy sound.
"I forgot you said I was your wife!" She fingered the thin chain at her neck, from which his mother's pendants hung. "But you don't need to exaggerate, lovely. I've told you before - if you want to me to believe you, don't oversell the flattery."
Carlisle hummed and shook his head lightly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. He hadn't been exaggerating, but he knew no matter how confident she was, she only ever believed him to a certain extent.
"You're beautiful, they noticed that."
"I guess I only noticed the way you looked at me, maybe? That's all I really want," Carys replied. He wondered if she knew just how ecstatically happy it made him whenever she said something to that effect. "I know it was a stupid reaction, but-"
"Not stupid," Carlisle reminded her, distracting her with another kiss. Or, at least, that's how he justified kissing her so passionately when she was in emotional and physical pain. He pulled away before he lost himself. "I've missed you," he whispered, brushing butterfly kisses to her eyelids.
How else could he explain it? The loss of safety, of peace, of warmth. The feeling that a part of him was gone. He missed who he was with her, how unburdened he felt. How easily he forgot who he was, and was able to forget he was a few centuries older than twenty-three.
He gazed at her, thought about the time they'd spent apart, the time they were yet to spend apart, and he couldn't stop himself from asking.
Carys didn't think she'd heard him properly. She'd been lost in his golden eyes when he'd asked, and her mind couldn't quite process the question for a few seconds.
"Will I... Fast with you?" She queried, frowning lightly. There were more than a few things wrong with that - if it had been his question. Carys looped her arms around his neck and tried not to get lost again when his penetrating gaze locked on hers.
Carlisle chuckled and tossed his head. "Would you handfast with me," he clarified. He pressed his lips together half a moment later, and a crinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "I'm not sure if you would know what it is, it went out of-"
"'Course I know what it is," Carys told him, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt. "It's what Scottish people used to do, isn't it? You'd handfast and live together for a year and a day, and decided if you wanted to remain married or not?"
She blushed when Carlisle chuckled again and shook his head this time. He tightened his hold on her and pressed his forehead to hers.
"No, that's a myth. Handfasting was prevalent when I was human," he explained. "In England, until the mid-eighteenth century, it represented a legal union. You could partake with or without a clergyman, but it was completely acceptable... You-uh. You were supposed to be-"
"Carlisle, are you okay?" Carys was worried he might be sick. It wasn't possible, but it seemed as if he'd paled.
Carlisle shook his head, rolling his forehead back and forth against hers. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, was far calmer, seemingly back to normal.
"Handfasting often preceded a church wedding, but as I said, it was an accepted and legal union-"
Carys gasped, her eyes widening. "Wait."
"And whilst witnesses were typically required in case the union was disputed-"
"Wait," she whined.
Was he asking what she thought he was asking? Her stomach dropped, not unpleasantly, and she knew what her answer would be in an instant. The pendants burned against her chest; her heart beat a wild rhythm against her ribs. She was mad. They were both mad. This was madness... A ridiculous time to get engaged... And yet...
"I'd like to do it now, if you'd-"
Carys twisted out of Carlisle's arms and stood, which was far more effective in cutting off his impromptu proposal than her weak interjections.
"Right now?"
"Right now."
Carys realised with a jolt that the feeling rising from her belly, tightening her core, and locking her lungs wasn't dread or hesitation, it was excitement. Happiness. Ridiculous, unbridled delight.
"Noooo. You are not proposing to me like this," she told him, eyes wide, jabbing a finger at his chest when he joined her again. "And we're not getting kind-of married like this."
To call Carlisle's expression crestfallen wouldn't do it justice. "You don't-"
"I'm a human!" Carys explained, glancing around the large well-appointed room, and trying not to focus on too many of the details. It was a lovely room, but it wasn't important just then. "I'm rumpled," she continued, gesticulating between them. Was she sweaty? She felt sweaty. This was madness. Wasn't it? "I'm in pain, I've just been crying so I'm all puffy, I'm bleeding, I have to admit, I kinda need to pee, but you don't need to know that, and I'm pretty sure I'm sweaty."
"If you feel uncomfortable saying yes, I-"
"You're going to remember this for the rest of time, Carlisle! One day, it'll be an unclear human memory to me, but to you? Crystal!"
"Oh..." Carlisle started as understanding dawned. "Oh! Oh! You mean."
"I'm not going down in your immortal memory like that," Carys complained, swinging about, trying to find a- "where's the bathroom?"
Carlisle pointed, and she grabbed her bag and hastened in that direction. She'd almost said yes. She couldn't believe she almost went down in history puffy-faced and bloated. If he had a human memory, that was one thing, but he didn't. For the rest of time, he'd remember her as the human he married with-
Carys caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and whined, deep in the back of her throat. Frizzy hair, puffy eyes, red cheeks, she listed. Are those-? Yeah. Strain lines in mah forehead, and-oh god. Carys had thrown her coat to the floor, and was confronted by: Sweat patches. Sweat. Patches!
An hour and a half later, Carys returned to the sitting room, much more relaxed, almost pain-free, her hair refreshed, wearing the long golden dress and matching heels she'd chosen for dinner before realising it might need to be called off, spanx, and both the earrings and necklace he'd given her.
She was rewarded by the kind of shocked stare and gasp that she hoped preceded the sort of "Yes" she'd be happy for him to remember for eternity.
Carlisle, leaning against the back of one of the sofas, his arms crossed, appeared suitably frozen and lost for words.
"Carlisle, did you hear me?"
"You look beautiful," Carlisle whispered, crossing the distance between them and tugging Carys onto her tiptoes, settling her against his chest. "Good God, I've missed you."
"Don't go getting all venomy-eyed on me," Carys teased, leaning back against his arms at her waist to better see his eyes. "I still don't one-hundred-per cent know what's exactly going on right now. Like, what we're about to do and stuff."
Carlisle laughed, pressing his face to her hair. "Stuff?" he repeated.
Carys pushed at his shoulders and clapped her palms to his stone-like cheeks. She needed him to blink away the tears, because if he didn't, she was at risk of following him and ruining the makeup that covered her far less perfect skin.
"So? What happens?"
Carlisle raised one perfect eyebrow. "You're really happy to do this?"
Carys nodded. "I've decided to start doing things that make me happy, even if they're completely mad," she informed him between pouting kisses. "I'm going to be impulsive. And I'm pretty sure you said this wasn't legal?"
"No." Carlisle trailed his lips over her jaw, barely touching her skin. When he reached her neck, she ran through a list of curses, throwing each and every one in the direction of her uterus. "It's not legal anymore in this way," he added, touching his tongue to the hollow of her throat and stealing her breath. "Just between us. Just... Between... Us..."
Carys' mental curses increased in volume.
"But... Uh... Stop that. Oh wait, no... It's okay-uh, continue... What was I...?"
Carlisle did as he was bade, returning to her jaw and lips. He likely knew exactly what he was doing, addling her mind, distracting her.
"You said: but?"
"I did? Oh. I did. Erm... But, you'd think..."
"We were married? Yes."
Their gazed locked, and Carys had a sudden moment of complete clarity when Carlisle took her right hand in his.
This wasn't legal. They weren't surrounded by friends or family. Carlisle wasn't pretending to be human, or having to be the head of his family. There wouldn't be any form of consummation. Carys wasn't feeling her best, but likewise she didn't have any pressure to appear as if she did.
This wasn't expected, or planned, or stressful.
It wasn't official.
It was just the two of them, standing in the middle of a blue sitting room, in a hotel suite Carlisle had likely wrangled from his children for nothing, and afterwards, they'd sit together and spend a weekend doing absolutely nothing.
They didn't even have rings.
As he'd said, it was just between them.
"I," Carlisle began, lifting Carys' hand to his lips before he continued, "Carlisle Cullen, take thee Carys Ivy Vale, to my wedded wife, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth."
"Wait, what?" Carys blinked. "That's... Isn't that in wedding vows?"
Carlisle nodded, clearly bemused. "Of course. It's... The troth is where the term betrothal comes from, and-"
"Whoa...," Carys whispered to herself, staring at their joined hands. She shook her head free of cobwebs, and took a breath through tight lungs. "Could you repeat that part? I'm supposed to say it back, right?"
Carlisle's responding grin stole the last of her rapid, shallow breath. It really wasn't fair for him to grin like that. The brilliance of his smile was added to by shining, venom-filled golden eyes.
"I, Carlisle Cullen, take thee Carys Ivy Vale, to my wedded wife, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth."
"And I," Carys whispered shakily, "Carys Ivy Vale..., take thee, Carlisle... Sorry. I take thee, Carlisle Cullen..., to my wedded husband, till my second death us depart-" she paused for a moment to allow for Carlisle's surprised laughter, "and thereto I plight thee my troth. Though, it's not really much compared to-umph."
Carlisle pulled her into his arms and kissed her with the desperation she'd assumed would come with their initial reunion.
As she gave into the kiss, a small voice rose from the back of her mind, bringing with it a nagging worry that she, at least, had been caught up in a sudden whirlwind of emotions and happiness, which had led to something they couldn't tell anyone about. Nothing would change. They'd have their weekend, and their lives would separate again.
Carys dismissed the thought and wrapped her arms around Carlisle's neck. She refused to let the depressive thought cloud her mind until she was on her way back to Forks.
Without him.
A/N: Awww?
Thank you to everyone who's still sticking with the story through New Moon, and wants to stick with it past this chapter!
Thank you to: chellekathrynnn, Ella (Yes! Exactly!), Lizzy B (I love them - she's got a good group of friends around her!), souverian, BMBMDooDoo- Doo- Doo- Doo, Adela (thank you!), Guest (as requested! I wasn't going to, but you got me thinking!), and Love. Fiction. 2020 for your reviews!
