Get ready for an intensely soppy mini speech from Carlisle. I'm going to go back and edit any grammatical errors in the morning. I don't think there are any, but I can't be sure.
Chapter 23
Despite the desire flaming between them, Carlisle held back just enough that Carys knew he was in full control. It would go no further, no matter how much she might want it to, no matter how tempted he might be.
He drew away sharply, ending the kiss as abruptly as it had begun, moving to trace his lips over her jaw while she fought to regain her senses.
Once she had - no mean feat with him gently kissing her skin, he returned. "No more talk of this afternoon or tomorrow," he whispered against her lips. "Can we pretend for now? I have work. You have a trip. Nothing more..."
Carys didn't want to argue. She didn't want to think about it any more than he did. But she knew, looking into his darkened eyes, that it would be at the back of both their minds regardless.
"Are you sure I can't tempt you to some sexy times dans la chamber?" Carys asked, waggling her eyebrows as she purposefully mispronounced the words, trying to lighten the mood.
Carlisle flashed a grin as he leaned back and took the bait. "Sexe dans la chambre," he flawlessly, corrected.
Carys tamped down a grin an adopted her grandmother's East End accent. "Dan's la chamber?"
"No!" he whined. "You're going the wrong way! Less English, more French. Dans la chambre."
"Dan's la chamb-ray?"
"You're a lost cause," he huffed.
"Je sais exactement ce que je dis. Je ne parle qu'un peu Français, mais tu es trop rapide pour juger," Carys lightly observed as she hopped up, scooping up her cup on the way.
She didn't think it was a perfect translation, but just before she flounced away down the hall, she turned to take in his suitably shocked form.
He caught up with her at the top of the stairs. "How did I not know this about you?"
Carys shrugged. "You never asked. I can understand some patois and much more French, but can only speak a little French and no patois. I can read more French still."
Carlisle stared down at her for a few seconds before he took her coffee in one hand, her hand in the other and ducked, shouldering her waist.
Carys squeaked; the world tilted and settled upside down.
"Put me down!"
"I'm afraid I can't risk it. At your advanced age, you shouldn't chance the stairs," he announced with a pat to her behind. "Anything could happen. Your knees might lock. You might displace a hip. God forbid you take a funny turn and forget where you were going."
"I'm only old by your standards-" Carys gasped and wriggled when his hand firmed and set to stroking. "Stop that." He didn't. At first she kicked her legs, but halfway down the stairs, she gave in to the caress. "-because life expectancy in London was like twenty-six when you were young."
"Thirty-nine and a half, thank you very much."
"Hey, look at that. We're middle-aged!"
"Speak for yourself. The longer I live, the younger I am."
"Tell that to the three-hundred and sixty-seven candles on your next birthday cake, you ancient swine!"
Carlisle laughingly set Carys down on the counter beside the hob a few seconds later, stealing a begrudging kiss from her before he started on breakfast.
As he worked, they discussed imagined and entirely real - for Carys - aches and pains, and he executed a perfect rendition of the old man in Monty Python's Life of Brian, bowing when he was finished to raucous one-woman applause.
"Don't undercook the black pudding," she warned a little later, excitedly hugging his arm to her chest. Having forgone dinner the night before and forgotten her pastries upstairs, her stomach was beginning to think her throat had been cut.
"Just you remember to tell me before it's gone too far." Carlisle stood between her legs, his hip to the counter, spatula in hand, adjusting the contents of the pan when needed.
He'd given in, as it was her birthday, to her highly unusual request of five thick slices of the dark sausage. It smelt mouthwatering.
"I like my blood nice and hot," Carys purred against his ear. "Crispy on the outside, soft as butter on the inside."
Carlisle grimaced. "Remind me," he drawled. "Which of us is the vampire?"
"Shh, shh, shh." Carys sniffed the air. Heaven. Eyelashes fluttering, she breathed, "Nearly done."
"I'm beginning to regret my choice of life partner."
"Good morning," Bella called from the doorway, pushing off to walk towards them, peering into the pan. "What are you making?"
"Full English," Carys replied happily. "Three rashers of bacon, two runny-yolked fried eggs, two sausages, half a fried tomato, baked beans, toast," she added when the toaster popped, "and five, yes, five slices! of black pudding."
"Black pudding?" Bella asked, her nose wrinkling. "Isn't that illegal here?"
Carys shifted uncomfortably. Carlisle cleared his throat. Both gave the pan their undivided attention. It wasn't strictly legal, but-
"It is a... grey area...?" Carlisle murmured.
"It is illegal," Edward dryly observed, following Bella into the room.
"Is it illegal if Carlisle made it?" Carys queried.
"Whomsoever made the dish does not affect the legality."
"Mm, methinks it does."
Edward drifted closer, his nose wrinkling just as Bella's had. "Mm, methinks it doesn't."
"Mm, but it does."
"Mm, but it doesn't."
Bella looked between them. Carlisle sighed, failing to hide a smile as he rubbed Carys' thigh. He was more than used to the back and forth, though it hadn't occured once in the past ten months.
"It does not," Edward argued.
"It does," Carys retorted. "You've stolen cars. And worse."
"You're eating dried blood," he countered, poking his tongue out so quickly Carys almost missed it. "Vegetarian or not, none of us would go near a pig."
Carys made a face at him. They only liked animals they could hunt; predators, for the most part, tasted the best, though they each had favourites. Carlisle's favourite - deer - said just as much about him as Emmett's - bears. "With oats and stuff."
"What's the 'stuff'? All I heard was 'I like my blood nice and hot'."
Bella grimaced and backed further away from the pan. Edward followed her in a flash, slinging an arm around her waist.
"Sorry, Bella," he and Carys said in unison.
Bella seemed to be getting past her more sickly response to blood as time went on, but she retained an intense aversion. It would be interesting to see how that changed once she was transformed.
"Carys," Edward complained, reacting to her thoughts.
"Sorry," she whispered. He didn't like to think of how imminently she would-
"Carys."
"Sorry."
It was his fault, partially.
Edward caught the unbidden thought before she could hide it, and she felt a hot, apologetic blush burn her cheeks when he recoiled in horror.
"We'll be done in the work of a moment," Carlisle said, adjusting the bacon sizzling away in the pan. "And then you may have the kitchen to yourselves."
Carys' attention returned to him abruptly. She grabbed her plate from the counter, bouncing lightly as her gaze flickered between his face and the hot pan.
"Are you not eating in here?" Bella asked.
"No, we're watching the end of the Lake House," Carys told her.
"Why the end?"
"Because it-" Carlisle broke off, glancing at Carys, who placed a loving kiss to his temple. Well fed as he was, a light flush stained his alabaster cheekbones. He was usually unabashed with his choice. It was odd to see him unwilling to discuss one of his favourite films.
She ducked her head out to better see Bella. "Have you ever seen it?"
"No...," she admitted.
"I won't ruin it for you then, but it's worth it, and we don't have enough time to watch the whole thing."
"Happy birthday," Edward said suddenly. Bella jumped and then echoed his sentiments immediately. "I went in with Esme and Alice. I should warn you. I'm under strict orders not to warn you about Jasper and Rosalie's gift."
Carys grinned and tapped her nose. "What about Emmett?"
"I'm under strict orders by everyone to expressly warn you to be on the look out for that one."
Carys laughed.
"After the film, I'll give you your surprise," Carlisle reminded her quietly.
"And I'll love it," she replied. She meant it. She was sure she would.
Carlisle was less easily convinced.
He piled food onto her plate silently and avoided all her attempts to reassure him, playing them off until they were in the living room and the film and food required Carys' full attention.
Finishing in record time, she placed her empty plate on the coffee table and thanked him. He simply tucked her more securely against his side, his hand slipping over her waist to rub absentmindedly at her belly.
Carys couldn't concentrate for long. Reality reared its ugly head.
Her thoughts turned to the battle with Carlisle's thoughts occupied. When he noticed her rapid breathing, she told him it was a reaction to the film.
By the way he pulled her onto his lap and curled around her, she doubted he believed her. She could tell he was just as nervous.
He slapped his knee the instant the credits began to roll. "Time for your surprise," he said quickly, lifting her into his arms. He walked across the room and up the stairs, taking them five at a time until he reached the top and strode to the door of his study, where he stopped moving, breathing, blinking. "You may not like it," he said thickly. "I need to-"
"Don't worry," Carys soothed, stroking the side of his neck. "I'll love it."
"What if you don't? You may think me presumptuous. I've overstepped. No." He shook his head and turned away them from the door. "You will hate it."
"Carlisle!" she choked. "At least let me see it before you decide?" In his arms, there was nothing she could do to stop him if he started walking away.
"No."
"Carlisle..."
"What if-"
She peered up at him and whispered enticingly, "What if I love it?"
His arms shook. "It's a gown," he blurted out.
A dress didn't sound bad enough to have him worrying quite as much as he was. Unless...
"Are you worried I'll think you're trying to dress me?"
He shook his head.
"Then what?"
Carlisle heaved a heavy sigh and lowered her to the ground. He flicked her an unsteady glance, his hand on the door nob, and Carys offered him an encouraging nod.
He threw the door wide.
Carys turned to see.
Her jaw dropped.
A floor length wedding gown hung at eye level, suspended by invisible threads from the lights in the middle of the room, rendering her speechless. It reached a few inches above the ground at the front, whereas the back pooled over the floor.
Her eye was drawn to a garment bag laid across Carlisle's desk, from which a small mound of white silk flowed.
Underskirts from the looks of things.
She drifted closer, taking in all she could of the white, structured silk creation before her. There was no way to be sure of how it would look once she was wearing it, or how she would feel in it, but it was a beautiful wedding dress.
The structured bodice was reminiscent of the gown she'd worn a year before to the day. Unlike that gown, it was entirely strapless, and less bulky in appearance. It ran down to meet the overskirts, which curved outwards and then fell straight.
It was traditional, and yet modern at the same time. Dramatic. Nowhere near a ball gown from what she could see, and yet too fitted and full for her to call it an A-line dress.
"You never could seem to find the right one," Carlisle worried quickly from directly behind her. "I thought if I sketched the parts you liked, combined them into one... Perhaps it would provide an option." His hand raised past her shoulder, pointing briefly towards the bodice. "I asked for specific details to be included.
"The bodice is abbreviated; the skirts gathered. Together, it will cover your lower belly, while emphasising the natural dip and flow of your waist. Such tricks were commonplace in my lifetime. You'll be free to eat and drink comfortably with nary a visible difference throughout the day. I know you've been worried and insecure about that part of your body..."
He trailed off, and yet he didn't seem to be finished. "What else?" Carys breathed.
"Well, I... Weighted pockets, of course. Hidden within the skirts... The stays are lined with layer upon layer of diaphanous silk, acting as a chemise would to protect your skin. I know you prefer full range of movement on the dance floor, hence the lack of sleeves...
"Alice is happy to make adjustments if you like it enough to wear it once you've had a chance to try it on, but there's no pressure. I don't expect you to-"
Carys whirled, cutting off his nervous rambling mid-flow.
"I won't know until I try it on," she said with an induldent smile, "but it's beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Even if I don't wear it on our wedding day, thank you. I love it. "
"You do?" he asked, hope shining brightly in his eyes.
"I do... But I thought you didn't want to see the dress until the wedding?"
"And I won't," he said with a hint of a smile. "Whether you wear this or another, I won't really see it until I see you wearing it."
Carys didn't know how to feel, or what to say, and so she hugged him.
He'd told her there was no pressure to wear it, but he'd designed and had it made for her. Based on everything she liked and everything she wanted.
What if she didn't love it when she wore it? Would he think it was a sign she didn't want to officially marry him? That no dress would be perfect?
What if she chose another? Would he think it was a rejection of his hard work?
Cold sweat broke out beneath her many layers.
But when they parted and he took the dress down, letting her examine more of the details before he packed it away, she smiled and pretended there were no questions whirling around her mind.
She did love it.
Insofar as she could tell.
Once she tried it on, she'd know.
She didn't want to waste any of their time together with him worrying as she was. The viewing of the dress had flipped their roles; they were reading from one another's scripts.
Edward said nothing when they returned downstairs, and Carys was overwhelmingly grateful to him when Carlisle's expression remained calm, on the verge of hopeful pride.
When the others returned around twelve, the atmosphere shifted anew.
It took on a far more serious quality. Despite their hugs and well wishes, her birthday was over. A new day had begun. One fraught with tension.
Alice was particularly upset for a while, until she followed Edward and Bella to the garage. She returned upstairs, followed swiftly by Bella, and a brief conversation behind closed doors returned a bright smile to her face. Bella, by contrast, was muted afterward.
Carys wondered what they'd discussed but Carlisle shared a meaningful stare with Edward and then apologetically refused to tell her.
There wasn't enough time to concentrate on how strange it was.
No one else was smiling. No one else was excited as Alice was. The closest was Emmett, but even he seemed to be performing a role. He rarely strayed from Rosalie's side. When he thought no one was looking, he watched her in the same way Jasper watched Alice and Carlisle and Carys watched each other.
Committing one another to memory.
Edward had taken care of the tent, sleeping bags, and packs of dehydrated food, and so all Carys needed to do was sort herself out.
She ran around while Carlisle double-checked and subtly repacked the things she planned to take with her.
She removed one of the jumpers she was wearing, wrapping it around a book to protect it. It wasn't one of the diaries Carlisle had given her. They were far too precious to risk, no matter how much she wanted to read them.
They set off soon afterward. Just before they left, Carlisle added a pair of thermal socks, cramming them with something she couldn't see into the last of the space.
"I've heard it's impossible to sleep with cold feet," he told her, looking up from the pack. "I don't..." His voice broke. He looked down and shook his head. When he looked up again, he was the picture of serenity. "I don't want you to freeze. Alice says it will snow."
Carys followed his lead, repeating their conversation from earlier in the day. "I've had my eye on your parka for weeks."
The car ride was silent. It passed by in a blur, over far too quickly.
Carys tried to be strong when Carlisle threw her backpack over one shoulder and retook her hand to head off down the trail, but the closer they came to the clearing, the less either of them spoke.
For Carys, it was difficult to breathe, let alone speak past the lump in her throat. Panicky tension gripped her. They took a longer route to Bella and Edward, running parallel, but they were both fast walkers and their long legs ate up the miles despite their best efforts to slow down.
Even with time to stop and rub her wrists against various trees, intensifying her scent, they reached their destination in less than two hours.
It wasn't fair. Four hours before he'd been showing her his surprise. It was too soon for him to leave her.
He had to.
There was much more he needed to do before the day was out, and she needed to be carried to the top of the mountain and make camp before the storm.
But that didn't make it fair.
They were the first ones to arrive. Bella had called Billy before they'd left, and so Jacob and Seth knew to meet them in the clearing, but they had likely expected it would take a little longer to get there.
Carys couldn't bear the thought of losing Carlisle, but standing with him alone she couldn't stop the darkest thoughts or intensifying fear. Her head hurt from holding in her tears.
"What if... What if you don't... What if something happens?" she whispered. "And-and how are... How are you going to... Are you going to be able to kill?"
Carlisle closed the small space between them slowly. Taking her right hand in his left, he lifted the other and gently raised her chin with his forefinger.
"You don't like killing," Carys moaned, trying to pull away. "There are only nineteen of them now, but-"
He cut her off and leaned in, his lips a bare inch from hers. His cool breath washed over her skin, his molten eyes capturing and holding her fearful gaze.
"I'm coming back to you," he promised as a single tear slid down her cheek. "I'm coming back to you, and nothing on God's green earth will stop me, my love. From the moment I saw you, I was yours. You have reminded me time and again that I do not have your permission to leave you. I do not have your permission to die. You must know that I hold myself to your words as much as you do." He brushed a second tear from her cheek and lowered his voice to an insistent, near desperate whisper. "Trust me, Carys. I would walk through hell for you. If this is what I have to do to protect you, surely my soul will recover."
"You have a good one," she sobbed. Ridiculous as it sounded, it was the best she could do in the moment.
"I believe I do," Carlisle assured her. "You mustn't worry about that anymore. I should have told you when I made up my mind, I'm sorry." He scoffed, attempting a smile. "An atheist, unsure of the existence of souls, encouraging a religious man past his doubts."
He tried to make the words sound humorous, but Carys felt only brief relief. Their beliefs differed, but neither was any less valid than the other.
Bending his head, he closed the small gap and pressed his hard lips to hers. The touch was gentle at first, his lips skating slowly over hers before they each deepened the caress.
He pulled her against him and she gasped, giving him the space to briefly plunge his cold tongue into her mouth.
Carys' free hand rose to grip his hair as they lost themselves to the kiss for long, uninterrupted minutes.
It was a goodbye - for now.
The lone caveat was present in each breath, each clinging shift of their lips, each and every touch of soft skin against marble. It was in their hands, which tightened their hold on each other just to the point of hope raising its head - blind, impossible hope - that Carlisle wouldn't have to kill, and that his life wouldn't be risked. That perhaps he could stay with her, safe forever in this one moment.
Before she was ready, it was over.
He lifted his head, returning for a quick, ever so gentle buss before stepping away, her hand safely tucked away in his for now. His hand trembled.
He turned to Seth, who had appeared - dressed in a t-shirt and full length jeans - in the time they said goodbye.
Carys swiped at her face. She hadn't realised they were no longer alone.
Bella, Edward and Jacob stood a ways away, watching them with various degrees of interest, abject horror, and, in Edward's case, sorrow for what he must have heard in their thoughts.
"Please look after Carys," Carlisle said to Seth, his hollow voice wavering as venom swam in his eyes. "Keep her as safe as I would if I were there."
"I promise; she'll be safe with me," Seth confirmed.
Carys whimpered as Carlisle drew his hand from hers. "No," she protested weakly. Her face crumbled and her vision blurred anew. "Please! Don't go! We-we can-you don't-you can... Please!" It was a fruitless plea. An impossible one. She knew it was even as she sobbed and clutched and grabbed at his arm.
Carlisle gripped the nape of her neck, pulling her against him. His lips pressed hard to her forehead; he held the top of her arm tight, to the point of pain. "I love you," he whispered against her skin.
And then, before she could form the words to tell him she loved him too, he was gone.
Carys turned and staggered away from the others. She bent double, burying her face in the crook of her elbow, pressing the fabric of her coat hard against her eyes, inhaling his lingering scent.
A hot hand curved about her shoulder and she shrugged it off just as she heard Edward relay her thoughts. Carys didn't want comfort unless it came from Carlisle.
She gritted her teeth against silent sobs and the urge to scream. Five minutes of anguish was all she allowed herself. No more, no less. But in those five minutes, she let her terror and pain for what was to come the next day flood her senses. The intense, overwhelming fear of the possibility of Carlisle's death.
In that time, she sent a prayer to his God and all the others she could name - on the off chance she was wrong or it might somehow make a difference - for no one on their side to be killed.
Guilt flooded her for those who her prayer condemned.
Carys slowly pushed herself up. It took two attempts to do so. With her head hung low, she rubbed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes until silver trimmed black spots invaded her sight and her tears stopped falling, then wiped the worst of the wetness from her face. Her eyes - red, puffy, sore, and too warm - cleared enough to see.
After a deep, shuddering breath, she grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders as she further composed herself.
She turned back to the group, but she couldn't look at any them. Especially not Bella or Edward. Not now. Not knowing if she herself had been just a little more selfish... A little quicker...
A/N: anyone else crying their eyes out about Carys and Carlisle parting ways? Just me? Okay... Honestly cried when I wrote it, edited it, and on all three read throughs. Surprised it still got to me.
In French, Carys said: I know exactly what I'm saying. I only speak a little French, but you are too quick to judge. Not 100% definite on the translation quality!
Thank you to: Guest ( ;) ;) we'll see! As for Carys, that bit was referencing the end of her human life, and doesn't mean she's necessarily going to die, but I think Carlisle would blame himself and be just as heartbroken if not more if she died giving birth. He would never recover if she died, but if she died in that way, it would be infinitely worse for him. As for reviews, it's all Paninihead's fault from their reviews back in the Twilight section of the story if Carys is pregnant!) animexchick, Momochan77, TheWiseQueen, Jane (Thank you! Not sure this one would have!), chellekathrynnn, luisannaevelarkHLover, jhaenox, BMBMDooDoo-Doo-Doo-Doo, 0oKitteno0, BubblyYork, Neonkat (Thank you so so much! Such a wonderful review! Thank you!), and seconddragon for your reviews!
