Chapter 22

The first rays of light slowly began to seep through the darkness surrounding the house, lifting the sky to a deep, dark blue.

The slow progression to dawn found Carys and Carlisle facing each other in their bed, lit by one of two bedside lamps, talking about everything they could think of, of which little to nothing was of importance.

As Carys required warmth far more than Carlisle, the duvet was tucked around her, all the way up to her neck. In contrast, the part that covered Carlisle barely reached his waist.

Carys appreciated the lack of effort. For long stretches, one hand would leave her cocoon to trail absentmindedly over his chest and abdomen until, eventually, she predictably set to tracing his chest hair - which led her on a downward path. At such points, she would find her wrist captured and returned to the safety of the duvet.

Carys was enjoying the game far more than she thought Carlisle must.

It was half past five in the morning before the subject of getting up was broached. Dawn wouldn't break for more than hour, and they had been talking for the better part of two since Carys had surprised them both by waking far earlier than usual.

"... Carys Thornvale-Cullen," Carys concluded, having debated each potential amalgamation of their names until she came to realise she could blend her own to create a new word. "Now that's a name. It sounds like a Lady - Lady Carys Thornvale-Cullen."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, shifting as he adjusted his pillow. "Carlisle Thornvale-Cullen...," he tested, as he had with one or two of the others.

Carys waited once again with bated breath, but his attention was fixed elsewhere, and he fell silent as he had done each time before.

Carys' phone vibrated on the night stand. She was halfway through a rather difficult shuffling roll when Carlisle rose above her, stretching out a long pale arm to grab it.

He held it in front of her, dropping his forehead to the area of thick duvet beneath which her shoulder lay. Wriggling one hand up, Carys poked a single finger out under her chin, typed in her pin, and read the message while she returned her hand to the warmth.

"Sare and Mon're driving over, so I'm gonna get a lift with them about eight thirty," she informed Carlisle, who hummed a response and wrapped his free arm under her cocoon to hug her more securely to him.

He waited as she typed - a slow process with only one finger involved - and then began to shower her face and hair with light kisses once he'd discarded the device and rolled her back towards him.

"You should get up and going," he murmured when Carys' nose wrinkled in response to his lips pressing against the tip.

Carys nodded, but for around ten minutes she was content to lie still whilst he peppered her with affection, raising her chin every so often when she felt her lips were being neglected.

Eventually, however, the touches slowed, the sky lifted a shade, and Carys could no longer put off the day.

They rose together, but once their feet touched the floor, they kept their distance from one another. She dressed quickly and borrowed his car to drive back to hers, having made a stop at the supermarket outside town the day before.

Making quick work of the bolognese and white sauce, Carys completed the prep for both dishes she planned to take to the Clearwaters' and popped one into the oven, leaving the other to cool whilst she took a shower.

Standing under the hot stream, she scrubbed her skin and washed her hair over and over for half an hour until either Carlisle's scent was gone, or, at the very least, masked by the products she used.

Carys hoped it was the former as she dressed in a plain black outfit, forewent makeup, and confined her hair in an appropriately somber style.

Monica and Sarah arrived to pick her up just as she finished layering foil on top of the cooled lasagna, having attached a note to say: 375° - Carys. Leah, Sue and Seth knew the oven timings of the dish - unlike the pasta bake, it was destined for their chest freezer.

The ride to the funeral was quiet - shock and loss hung heavy in the air. It was lifted once - Monica mentioned how Harry hated mornings, and wondered aloud as to how he'd react to the news his funeral was held so early - but it was a brief interlude.

Carys - having compartmentalised parts of her life into 'Seattle', 'Carlisle', 'Work', and 'The Funeral' over the past few days to better cope - felt as if the short drive stretched on forever.

The funeral itself seemed, as many often do, to simultaneously ground time to a halt and speed by at the same time. It was a beautiful service, parts of which were conducted in Quileute, for which Carys followed the service book and emotions of the speakers as much as she did their beautiful and unfamiliar words.

Following the service, his immediate family and closest friends gathered to see him off; everyone else made their way to the wake.

Carys had stowed the lasagna in the freezer, which was fit to bursting as almost everyone had thought to do the same, and found a spot on one table to place the bake; the table groaned under the weight it bore.

She was reflecting on the outpouring when a large shadow loomed over her, bringing with it an excessive warmth akin to a radiator.

Carys finished removing the foil from the tray, then realised the figure was waiting not to add or remove food, but for her specific attention. Turning, she tilted her head back and looked up... And up...

Carys hadn't actually met Sam Uley before, but she recognised him well enough - both from pictures and distant glimpses when Leah or Seth pointed him out for different reasons.

Taller than Emmett by at least four inches, he had just as much of a commanding presence, gathering glances from half the room and outright stares from the other. Not all were hostile, but enough were that Carys felt herself blush. It was one thing to dislike him from afar, quite another to be standing in front of him doing so. Especially now that she knew what he was.

"I hear the Cullens are back," he said, his voice a deep, low rumbling sound that seemed to emanate from within his chest, carrying further than perhaps he meant it to.

Carys spared the room a sweeping glance. All but the boldest returned to what they were doing.

"A couple of them for now," Carys said once she'd dropped her head back again to meet his eye. She wasn't sure it was fair for him to stand so close when he was so tall, but he was just far enough away that she couldn't complain about personal space. "I expect Jacob told you?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. The move pulled his shirt sleeves tight over biceps Carys thought might be the size of her head; sighs rang out from a group by the door, and both Carys and Sam turned mildly judgemental glances in their direction.

"He did," Sam said simply, after he'd eyed Carys for a few moments. She assumed he was used to people squirming under his scrutiny, so she held still and firmed her chin. "The little one, we know about. Jacob thought the doctor would have been back too."

Carys debated for a moment, staring into his deep brown eyes before she answered: "He is."

Sam's brows lifted and his eyes widened, belying the depth of his surprise. "Well I... Did you break up? You don't smell like a bloodsucker."

"Shh!" Carys admonished, looking around to see if anyone had heard. "Someone'll hear you."

Sam blinked slowly, and then let out a brief chuckle. A throat cleared somewhere behind him, and he sobered immediately.

"But to answer the kinda veiled question there, I wasn't gonna turn up to my best friend's dad's funeral smelling like-" she broke off, glancing around again.

"Your best friend..." Sam appeared dubious at best.

"One of them."

Sam's shoulders flexed. Carys thought she heard him whisper, "Not for long...," but then he raised his voice again. "Sue might have invited you, but you probably shouldn't stay long."

Carys' back straightened, and as much as she could, she looked down her nose at him. "Why?"

"Thought that was obvious."

The response hadn't come from Sam, but Jared, who stepped up beside her under the pretence of adding to his plate.

"We're at a funeral," Carys found herself curtly replying. "And I'm a human, so-"

"You're dating a bloodsucker," Jared said, keeping his voice lower than Sam had. "Kinda implies you're not welcome."

Carys opened her mouth to hiss: "This is a funeral, have some respect!" but she was beaten to it almost verbatim by a beautiful young woman who all but stormed across the room towards them.

Her sleek hair mostly confined at the nape of her neck, she was shorter and slighter than Carys, but somehow managed to pull the two men to heel immediately. She turned a glare on Sam, her long fringe swishing as she did so, and Carys recognised her from the three large scars that ripped down the right side of her face.

"Sorry Emily," Jared said, hanging his head and all but shuffling his feet.

Sam echoed his sentiments, similarly chastised, but he attempted, "Emily, we don't know why they're back."

"Well, whatever the reason," Emily argued, "this is a funeral, and my aunt is about to walk through that door. The last thing she should see is-"

Whatever Emily was about to say was cut off as strong arms wrapped around Carys' waist, lifting her off her feet and straight against a hard, strong chest.

She flailed, her feet trying to find the floor as much as her hands tried to find purchase, her arms locked by her sides. She found the lapels of an unbuttoned jacket just as the shocked faces of the trio swiftly disappeared into the background.

Despite her muffled questions, her captor stayed silent until, a couple of minutes later, she was deposited onto a bed, and covered in a cloud of smoke.

Turning her face away from the smoke, Carys looked up and found:

"Seth?"

Seth backed up to sit on the lone chair of the room, swinging his feet, shoes and all, onto his desk. Leah, the source of the cloud, responded to Carys' exclamation by shoving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter under her nose.

Carys took both and shuffled back. She wasn't sure what to say. When she'd seen them at the funeral, they'd gone through the motions with everyone. By the time she reached them, they looked as if they couldn't take much more of the condolences, well wishes, and near-constant parade of grievers.

Leah was shaking almost violently. Her back against the headboard, she kicked her legs onto Carys' lap and flexed her feet in an obvious attempt to get it to stop.

"The fuck did those three want?" she growled at Carys, who was hesitating over opening the packet. Leah rolled her eyes and shook herself, blinking hard, until she threw off the worst of the tremors. "Seth, d'you mind if Carys literally does what I've been doing for days and smokes too?"

Seth shook his head.

He looked on the verge of tears, and Carys could see why he hadn't spoken. It was likely he couldn't. She curled one arm around Leah's legs and hugged them to her belly until she slowly stopped shaking altogether.

Seth nodded at her incessantly, until she took a cigarette and dropped the packet to the bed. She hesitated a little longer, but ultimately gave in to the rare temptation. The brief interaction with Sam had put her on edge again.

On an exhale - directed as far away from Seth as she could manage by ducking her head and shoulders out of the window she'd opened, to his apparent amusement - Carys turned enough to see them both and said, "They just wanted to-shit. Hi Monica..."

Monica stood in the doorway and stared between the three of them in silence. Carys and Leah shifted awkwardly on the bed with nowhere to hide their contraband when Sarah and a young Quileute woman Carys didn't recognise joined her.

The tension built, and then broke when the younger woman shouldered her way into Seth's bedroom and pulled a bottle of wine from under her dress.

She sank down onto the floor beside and below Leah just as Monica, wearing trousers, hopped up to sit cross legged on the desk.

"Carys, Rachel, Rachel, Carys," Leah introduced. They waved at each other a little awkwardly from their respective positions. "Rachel's here for the funeral, then back to college," she explained. "Carys lives in Forks, she's the one I was telling you about."

Leah took another drag of her cigarette, and directed the plume of smoke to the ceiling as she reached across and grabbed a jar which contained the remnants of half a pack at least.

Rachel took a swig of her wine, swiped at the top with her sleeve, and handed it off to Sarah who'd sat down beside her after handing Seth an entire chocolate cake.

Catching Carys' eye, Rachel, said, "Sue sent us up... There's always a bedroom at a funeral."

Carys nodded.

As far as her admittedly limited experience with funerals went - her mum's parents and her sole aunt on her dad's side, all of whom had died before she was ten - Rachel was right. There was always somewhere to get away, and the people who knew they were invited always seemed to find it.

"If one person says they're sorry for our loss again, I'm gonna lose it," Seth warned them all with a whine, his face contorting as tears welled up in his red eyes. Having abandoned the cake elsewhere for the moment, he swiped at his face, pushing his long hair back when he was done.

As one, they all leaned towards him, touching his arms or legs, whichever was closest, inadvertantly showing the depth of sympathy and empathy the words would have conveyed had they not become so overused.

Seth stilled completely, met Leah's eye, and just like that, they burst out laughing. The four women left out of the loop shared confused glances.

When Seth forced, "That's just as bad," between half-laughing, half-sobbing gulps of air, they sank back amid a chorus of soft apologies that only made the siblings' hysterical laughter grow in volume.

Carys had finished her cigarette, returning to her previous position when there was no longer a need to kneel with her head out the window, and Rachel and Sarah had shared a good few swigs of wine by the time Seth and Leah were ready to talk.

Leah had descended to tears alongside her brother, but unlike Seth, she'd allowed Monica to squidge in beside her and hug her. Seth had toed off his shoes, but the most he'd been able to handle was shaking his head when Carys offered him the bed.

Kicking lightly at Carys' legs to resettle herself, Leah gained the attention of the room.

"Alright," she rasped, "I think we all know Dad'd be the first one in with the funny stories, but he's-" Leah broke off when Seth whined again, looked him in the eye, and intoned, "he's fucked off to go-"

"Fishing," Seth supplied.

Leah nodded and looked around the room. "He's fucked off fishing with..."

"My Mom," Rachel whispered, earning herself a half-hug from Sarah.

Carys caught on to what they were doing and tried to think of who to offer as a heavenly fishing mate. Her grandparents were East Enders who preferred dancing to fishing and the like, so that settled it.

"And my cousin Kez," Sarah said, saluting with the wine bottle.

"My Dad," Monica added.

They looked to Carys. "My Aunt Ruby," she said.

"So...," Leah went on, nodding firmly. "Since he's done that, we're gonna have to tell all the ridiculous stories instead. Can't let him off just cause he's-"

"Fishing," Seth reminded her. "You know," he forced out between small sniffles. "First time he took me fishing, he-"

"Lost his fishing rod, and you peed all over him," Leah called, grabbing the bottle. "We've all heard this one."

Seth kicked his heel lightly at the desk, sending appealing looks to all of them as his nose twitched unhappily.

"I haven't," Carys whispered.

Seth beamed, his eyes shining with unshed tears in a way that stabbed and ripped at Carys' heart.

"He was-he was home alone with me," Seth began, trying to control his tears while not a single dry eye remained in the room. "I was about four, and I guess he didn't think about going before we left..."

They spent a long time talking about the memories they had of Harry - only the most humorous or happy ones allowed.

When it came to Carys' turn, she was surprised to find more than a few tripping off her tongue. Most were little quips he'd sent her, but some, like the first time they'd met, were surprisingly long tales.

Leah and Seth's friends slowly trickled in, until, when Sarah, Monica and Carys took their leave after a few hours, the siblings saw them off with relieved hugs, and a faint sigh could be heard from the room at the sudden addition of space.

They each again gave Sue their love and condolences when they said goodbye, along with assurances that her children were okay, and, in Monica's case, a promise that despite the bad timing, she would celebrate her birthday as planned.

It took a while for them to get on the road once they'd left the house, as Sue had given Monica the fifty dollars Harry had set aside for her present, letting her know that it was meant to buy the first round at her party the following week.

Carys was dropped off at her house; Monica had to get to work, and Sarah needed to sleep after her night shift.

Having declined all other offers of alcohol or nicotine following the cigarette, Carys waved them off, changed and washed as she had that morning just in case, climbed into Carlisle's car, and headed back to the house.

She wasn't prepared for what she found when she got there.

A note, written in this elegant hand and tacked on the front door, read: This is for tomorrow's Holi-Day. Please ignore it as best you can until then - it may be best to go straight up to sleep. Hardly appropriate, and you must feel drained. - C

Calling his name, she let herself in, frowning her confusion at his strange spelling of holiday.

She discovered him absent or otherwise occupied - which was perhaps good, because he subsequently didn't see the way her jaw dropped or her eyes, still a little sore from the emotions of the day, lit up when she saw the meaning behind the word.

The living room alone took her breath away.

That must be what he was doing with the box of lights...

A tree - so tall she couldn't quite work out how many feet it was, stretched high to one side of the room, flanked by the windows. It was covered in lights, baubles, pine cones, ornaments of all shapes and sizes which hung heavy from the branches, unlit candles, fruit for some reason she wasn't sure of, Christingles, garlands, candy canes, and much more. Atop it all sat a large golden star.

The theme of the area appeared to be red, gold and green; a small smattering of boxes lay wrapped beneath the tree in the same colours; and a table had been set to the side - it looked to be a decorating station for a Yule log.

Christmas.

Her gaze slowly swept past - she pressed her hands to her face as she took in the next area.

Adorned with silver cutlery, plates, as yet empty serving dishes, and champagne flutes, one end of the dining table was set for two.

Anniversary?

Whirling around, she realised it wasn't quite finished.

At the other end of the large room, emptied as it remained apart from the sofa and what he'd set out, unlit candelabras formed a perfectly spaced rectangle.

Drifting closer, she sifted through the records stacked beside the gramophone set to one corner of the makeshift dancefloor.

They ranged from pressings of waltzes to what looked to be composers of his youth, or, at the very least, ones he would have known as a young vampire studying music at the European universities he'd attended.

His birthday.

Carys allowed herself a squeal and a few excited jumps before she called, "Carlisle!?" and ran to the stairs.

She had never had someone do something so overwhelmingly lovely and over the top for her before. The mere thought of the next day, of how they would spend it, lifted her spirits as she imagined he must have guessed it would.

It wasn't a day for celebrations, but the need to collapse in his arms had risen throughout the sad day, and after seeing the gesture, it reached a crescendo.

Everything was going to be alright. That was what he'd told her the day before. They were going to be alright. And he was showing her that.

Reaching the top, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Carlisle knelt before the large cross at the other end of the hallway.

She could hear his voice when she slowly started to walk towards him. He was whispering - chanting - in what sounded like Latin.

Whatever the language, it had the cadence of an urgent prayer.

"Carlisle..?" Carys whispered, not wanting to disturb him too greatly, but terrified enough to want to make her presence known all the same.

She'd never seen him pray to his father's cross.

Carlisle finished his prayer and slowly raised his head. Carys touched his shoulder - he caught her hand, meeting her gaze. His eyes swam with venom, every line of his face tight and drawn with grief and fear.

"Carlisle," Carys breathed, sinking to her knees beside him. "What's happened..."

He shook his head, gathering her against him in an almost bone-crushing hug.

"I let my phone die," he said, his voice hollow. Trembling, he shook his head again when Carys went to speak, and she waited. "For four hours... Half an hour ago, I got the call... Edward's on his way to Volterra; he's going to ask to be killed."

A/N: *Carys and Carlisle being happy*. *Edward comes along with a ruddy sledgehammer of teenage angst, thinking he's bloody Romeo*. P.s. Leah hasn't changed yet in this - it takes wolves roughly a couple of weeks to control themselves once they do - the siblings are holding on, but it won't be long now. The books only elude to when she changed, and I wanted to have her know: it wasn't her fault her dad died, and she got to attend his funeral in this one.

I know already that a lot of you might be thinking or want to ask why Carlisle doesn't go after them. Why he can't will be explained next chapter, but to give you a taste, it's largely because of what Alice says to Bella immediately after Edward makes his decision: "if they agree to grant his favor, we're too late. If they say no, and he comes up with a plan to offend them quickly enough, we're too late. [...] I will be considered his accomplice if he is successful. You will be a human who not only knows too much, but also smells too good. There's a very good chance that they will eliminate us all."

Thank you to: Joseph Cullen, riaria123 (I'm glad you liked it - I missed them, to be honest! Think we deserved that moment of happiness and calm!), souverian, chellekathrynnn, lucefatale, Aye- Sir, Guest (thank you! Another one coming up tomorrow or on Saturday!), and Ella (very much so - Carys kind of still has the mental thing of mortality and two lives, whereas for Carlisle it's one life, and his mind works way faster than a human's (even though the vampires can be slow on the uptake), and he's known she was his mate for 15 months longer than she did. I think this chapter and next might give you a bit of an indication) for your reviews!