*Content Warning: Discussion of Non-Consensual Sexual Acts, Discussion of Torture*

Chapter Eight: Lies We Tell Ourselves, Lies We Tell Each Other

The Swan House - February 6th

"So what now?" Rosalie asked with a small shrug.

"I'm honestly not sure, this is all new to me too." Isabella said with a shrug of her own. "I think we need to figure out what to do about the logistics of our situation, and whether we want to bother rebuilding my house."

"I never got a chance to see it, Alice mentioned it was beautiful." Rosalie was trying to imagine what Alice had described and couldn't quite picture it.

"It was, and a part of me wants it back. But it was also never really mine, it belonged to the Volturi." Isabella looked in the direction of the Waterfall house wanting to go and survey the damage, but stopped the impulse.

"We could inquire about purchasing the land using one of our subsidiaries, that way it would be out of their name, although who knows when the township will let us build there again." Rosalie said using her knowledge of real estate, but given the explosion there was no way to know how long the police would keep it designated a crime-scene. "Plus it's not like we actually need the bedrooms, and the Swan house is plenty big."

Isabella nodded thoughtfully, "that might change, whatever I am, I don't need to sleep but it feels good sometimes to just shut your eyes. The same with human food, when you smell something wonderful, you'll be able to experience the taste with enhanced senses."

"I guess we should talk about that part of this whole thing. Are you comfortable turning me? I would understand any hesitation, we've barely reconciled." Rosalie tried to impart a sense of calm and patience, and Isabella seemed to take it well.

"True, but I feel like I can trust you, Esme and Emmett." Isabella paused, letting that sink in with Rosalie who smiled brightly back at her. "That being said, I'm not sure about Jasper, and I don't know Adara."

"Jasper is Jasper, he is as he's always been for what it's worth. I trust him, but I agree there is something about what he said about his past that bothers me. However, Adara is lovely, I know you'll like her if you give her a chance." Isabella gave her a slight nod in understanding, and then stopped to lean against a large tree.

"Good to know." Isabella looked at Rosalie for a few seconds as if deciding on what to say next. "I haven't explicitly said this to Alice, but I have chosen her, and from her actions I know she has chosen me. I think I can say we are together now, and while I hope that doesn't cause you any problems, I honestly don't really care."

"It doesn't, in fact it makes me so happy for both of you. I know you both have things to work through, but I'll be there and I know Esme will be there for whatever you need." Rosalie's sincerity gave Isabella a bit more confidence in her decision to make her the coven second. This was not the same woman who argued with Carlisle against protecting her when James started his hunt.

"Heh, it's weird to hear. A couple of weeks ago I would've killed you on sight, and very nearly did. Anyway, I have no idea how long this transformation will take on a normal healthy vampire, so if you wouldn't mind let's get started. We'll have plenty of time afterwards. Also, I need to have a talk with Alice soon, and I think it is best not to dawdle." Isabella pushed off from the tree truck and started walking back towards the house. They walked in silence until they got to the living room and sat down on one of the couches.

Rosalie turned and nodded to Isabella, took a calming breath, and then held out her wrist. Isabella smirked, and took it gently, then quickly bit down and injected some of her venom. The reaction was almost instantaneous as Rosalie flew back against the backrest of the couch and her eyes rolled up towards the back of her head. Her breath caught in a scream as her body went limp and unconsciousness followed.

Isabella moved to a nearby chair and set a timer on her phone, placing it on the end table and then waited. The first thing that seemed to happen was a distinct singular beat of Rosalie's once frozen heart, which spread out the venom to the rest of her body. The external changes started a few hours later, as her skin tone took on a slightly less pale appearance with her hair darkening a shade and growing out nearly a foot. Her appearance softened slightly, and while she was still unbearably beautiful some of her old human flaws reappeared.

It was five hours later, the family coming and going to check on her, that Rosalie's eyes finally fluttered open. Her dark blue, almost violet irises shimmering like a gemstone. Her mouth opened and she drew in air for the first time with altered lungs and let out a blast of joyous laughter. Sitting up she noticed Isabella, and moved over to pull her into a hug without thinking.

It only lasted for a few seconds, but Isabella managed to not react violently. Then Rosalie let go and sat back onto the couch she had been resting on, she reached up and touched her hair which had been the same for nearly two centuries and giggled as she ran her fingers to the ends of it.

Eliza came into the room and set down a plate of pancakes with butter and syrup, making Isabella roll her eyes. "Enjoy."

Rosalie looked at the plate for several long seconds before she dug in, moaning in almost euphoric ecstasy over the taste. She sat back savoring the bite, and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. The sting of them brought up such powerful emotions that she couldn't suppress them, as the sobs started to come. Brianna sat on her other side and pulled her in close, as Rosalie cried herself out.

"You good?" Isabella finally asked, far more gently than Rosalie was expecting.

"Yes. I feel almost human, but more. Did I feel my heartbeat?" Rosalie clutched at her chest, and looked down at her hands which were no longer like rock. She rubbed her hands together, marveling at the differences in sensation and texture.

"About once every hour give or take, you'll eventually be able to set a clock to it." Eliza said with a chuckle. "So about those logistics, I was talking it over with Leah and I think I'm going to go stay with her for a while."

"I thought you might want to, it sounds like a good idea. Especially as we work out everything else. I assume you'll be up daily?" Isabella gave her daughter a friendly supportive smile, almost as if she already knew what Eliza was going to say.

"Of course. There are still threats, and I'm sure we'll have to have some kind of meeting with everyone and the Quileute sooner rather than later. The Volturi did declare war on us." Eliza frowned, she hated how much more potential violence lay ahead of them. She was starting to wish she could just settle down and hold onto Leah and live life.

"We'll figure it out, for now go and spend time with your girlfriend." Isabella actually chuckled, and Eliza did a little arm dance.

"I have a girlfriend!" Eliza giggled, and threw Brianna a big smile. "Later sis."

"I'm still not used to that, should I have said something?" Brianna asked, looking somewhat sheepish, but Rosalie just shook her head.

"Don't worry about it." Isabella said softly.

"Brianna?" Zoey called in a normal voice.

Brianna smiled, jumping up, "Zoey's calling me, I'm gonna see what she wants."

Rosalie looked at Isabella once Brianna was gone and sighed slightly. "Spending time with your children makes me feel young, and they aren't even mine."

"They make me feel human, and give me something intangible. It never lasts, but for a time I almost feel like my old self. I know what I am, and being my second will be hard, I'm headstrong and opinionated, and I tend to get my way." Isabella warned one last time, but Rosalie just shook her head.

"Me too. But I promise to always support you when you've made a decision, I just ask to have a voice." Rose wasn't sure how this was going to work, but she felt she had to give it a try.

"Good, we're on the same page. I wouldn't respect you if you didn't offer your opinion, but I need to know that you will have my back and I will have yours." It was a simple thing to ask, and Rosalie was more than happy to accept.

She tilted her head slightly at Isabella, "in the words of my favorite movie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

North of the Swan House - February 7th

Adara still wasn't talking as she led her husband out to a nearby area she knew from scouting around. It was secluded and far enough away from the house that no one would hear them, even if things escalated. She turned to him right away and pointed a finger at his chest, backing him against a tree.

"What you said in there, that secret, you need to explain yourself. If I am to believe it, this story you concocted, you slept with an older mother figure who was in a forced work relationship with your family. Someone you had direct power over, which immediately damns you. Because you know that any kind of intimacy cannot be considered consensual. You raped the help. So please, what possible excuse do you have?" Adara had the righteous fury of a spouse who just found out something painful and fundamentally wrong about their partner. The kind of anger that could split apart a marriage.

"I thought I loved her, and I never thought of her as an 'employee'." Jasper started and Adara shook her head.

"No, I mean why did you bring it up in there, when you know exactly what they would think?" Adara pressed, because it wasn't adding up to her, something was wrong and she couldn't figure it out.

"It's funny, modern sensibilities have taught us to look at the past as though it were dictated in those terms. Sleeping with Miss Patty was frowned on, and if some ambitious local official caught wind of it I would've gone to jail for a few nights, but no one taught me that it was inappropriate or wrong. No one thought that our family was hypocritical when we employed our formers slaves them for a wage that they barely saw a ha'penny of, and then beat them when they got out of line. I felt nothing but pride as I marched off to join the Confederacy without a second thought, because I was defending our home from Northern aggression. It wasn't until Maria turned me that I realized how wrong I was about the war." Jasper's thick southern drawl came out in force, he usually tamped it down when speaking after centuries of repressing his accent, but in truth it had never really gone away.

"So what, you're playing on their modern sensibilities? Why?" Adara's anger was starting to ball in her stomach, because she didn't know what game her husband was playing or why.

"Well, we were exposing our histories to each other, no matter how sugar coated. Isabella for example, she said in a single sentence that she was tortured and thrown in a hole. Now, I could feel Alice's emotions when she was listening to Isabella after that fight with the newborns. That was no simple torture, it must've been brutal and prolonged. Now I don't know what was said but Alice she was suicidal for a while there. So that torture was far worse than a single word can convey. I slept with my nanny because I could. Because I wanted to, and because she was pretty. So pretty. It was also because she was someone I could have, when the one person I wanted was utterly out of reach." Jasper's voice was calm and deliberate, and Adara knew he wasn't just starting a fight but was also finishing one before it started. Hammering away at any chance she might forgive or forget.

"Why do I feel like I don't know you anymore? What is happening here Jasper?" Adara started to hug her stomach, the pain was phantom but hurt nonetheless.

Jasper gave her a mildly menacing look, "I peeled up some of the rug so you all could see what was poking out from the floorboards. My skeletons have skeletons, Adara."

"So your reaction to the tape was a show, you weren't horrified at all?" It wasn't supposed to be a question, Adara thought she knew her husband far too well to buy into an expression she knew was a front, but she wasn't sure anymore.

Jasper closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I've always known. He wasn't harming the family at first, and I tried to influence him as much as I could without doing it consciously or he would've known. But I knew how broken he was, how bigoted. How it warped over the years into something horrible. But even when I first met him I could feel he was coiled up tight and miserable with self-hatred. I don't think Carlisle ever saw it that way, but Esme tried to mold him into a better man. When he met Isabella I honestly thought it was a good fit at first. Until Alice happened, and yes I was jealous of Alice's love for Isabella. However, I wanted to protect her, get Isabella away from Edward. I tried at first using my thirst as a potential threat, keeping my distance by using our natural charms to frighten her. Course that strategy didn't work at all, that woman is either unbelievably brave or dangerously reckless, even as a child."

"So you are okay with yourself? All of this, the lies and manipulations, done in the name of defending both your human and vampire family." Adara was trying to keep an open mind, but she had this feeling that he was about to give her another emotional punch to the stomach.

"Darling, I am not a moral man, I accepted that fact many, many years ago. I gave up that moral right when I slaughtered innocents that were turned to be used as cannon fodder in Maria's army. I lost it when I rode off to war on my father's horse to join a dubious cause that I didn't really believe in. And yes I lost my innocence when I slept with a woman who was basically my surrogate mother. I slept with her because my real mother was dead, long buried and haunting me. She was my real love, although she died before I was grown enough to show my love for her. I know that's fucked up, but do you wanna know something even worse?"

He didn't wait for her to respond, he took a step forward, and then shook his head slightly with a bit of a scowl on his face, "you look like my mother."

Adara gasped and took a step back from him, he moved forward and cupped her cheek in one hand, a familiar and usually welcome touch that somehow felt vile and intrusive now. He stared into her eyes, and she could see no deceit in them. He was confessing his sins, but she couldn't wrap her head around the why.

He opened his mouth a few times to speak, as she knocked away his hand, "don't touch me!" Her voice was shrill and frightened.

"I know I have a thing, I know it's fucked up, but I don't care." Jasper continued. "I was serious about being surprised that Patty had a daughter. That girl could've been mine, but that doesn't matter to me."

"Does anything?" Adara was trying to hold herself together, staring at the man she loved with all her heart knowing that he was now a stranger to her.

"My past doesn't matter. Patty and her child don't matter. Of course, you matter. So does the rest of the family. Even Edward mattered, although I'm not upset that he's gone. I wish I had had the strength to be the one to take him down, but I'm glad Esme was strong enough to do it. I love you Adara, more than anything. You might have my mother's face, but I know you are not her and love you for you."

"Can you hear yourself?" Adara asked while inwardly sobbing, "understand your words, what you've admitted to me? Not just your fixation on a mother who has been dead for centuries, but the way you went along with Edward's delusions and manipulations. How you have evaded the truth and let cowardice dictate your choices. Then to hear you have blood relations still alive and don't even want to learn about them. You are not the man I thought I married. I refuse to believe that I've been deceived for fifty fucking years, so I don't know why you are doing this, but you've killed something here that may never come alive again." Adara shut her eyes, wishing desperately that she could cry but happy that her emotions couldn't be seen on her face. Not that it mattered, Jasper could feel what she was feeling. He already knew that she was beyond fury, she felt betrayed and was at the point of leaving everything behind.

"You're right, so I'll go, you stay. They need you here." Jasper said, wanting to reach out to her.

Adara opened her eyes and stared at him, not entirely sure how to take his offer. Then nodded, not able to articulate the words rolling around in her mind. She thumbed at her wedding band, turning it over again and again, and as he left she let out a quivering breath and stared at the place where he vanished trying to will him to return. After a while she began the slow walk towards her new home, wondering where she fit but secretly hoping Jasper would come back and say the right words that would heal what he had just ripped open.

She was halfway back when she felt a presence, through a combination of extremely heightened senses that formed a sort of phantom eye that stretched out her already supernatural vampire senses into something greater. She slowed her footsteps and consciously muted them to approach. There she spotted Angela sitting on a downed log at the far edge of a small clearing. Letting the morning sunlight start to reflect off of her crystalline skin. She was about to move forward and check on her when another figure appeared.

"Angela?" Talia said somewhat hesitantly, her body language was strange.

"Talia." Angela looked up briefly in greeting before looking down again, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you." Talia's voice was tentative, but Adara recognized the tone of voice. That was infatuation, this was a romantic overture if she was not mistaken. She was about to leave when Talia continued. "I think something happened to me when I first heard you speak. I can't stop thinking about you. I was hoping you could look into my mind and see what's wrong. I don't believe in love at first sight."

"Oh that's interesting. But you should look elsewhere, I'm not really worthy of that." Angela shook her head and stood. "Nor do I have the time to explore it further."

"I'll bite you, turn you like me or at least try." Talia offered almost desperately. Angela looked down at her hand still sparkling in the singular beam of sunshine that had started to rise above the tree line.

"In exchange for just looking into your mind?" Angela asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yes." Talia replied simply. Adara started to feel uncomfortable, but needed to see how this played out.

"Fine." Angela sighed, and then focused on Talia's thoughts. She was taken aback by the power of the emotions found within. Not love in the traditional sense, or devotion or even a real understanding of Angela as a person. But there was an unmistakable and utterly humbling sense of clarity and purpose. A connection to her that was impossible to discredit or ignore, coupled with a sense that their minds matched perfectly.

Angela immediately broke the connection and stepped back shaking her head. She couldn't accept it, she couldn't believe it. She wasn't worthy of love, she was just shy of a serial killer for as many lives as she had taken over the last century. Regardless of her victim's nature or the direct consequence of ending their lives saving many more down the line. That was ego, it was a convenient excuse.

It took her a full minute to raise her eyes again to look at Talia, suddenly afraid of her offer. They peered into each other's eyes for a while, almost examining one another's souls. Then slowly Angela nodded her head, keeping her expression neutral despite the turmoil raging inside of her. Talia moved forward, and they both smiled awkwardly as they tried to figure out the positioning. Adara realized this was a turning point, and they couldn't do it alone so she stepped out of the shadows.

"It's me, Adara. I do not mean to intrude, but I think someone should be present for this." Adara called ahead so as to not spook them.

"How long have you been there?" Talia asked moving a half step away from Angela, but not letting go.

"Long enough, and I don't object to what you are doing. But I have a suggestion, I know neither of you were there, but you may want to try the full transformation." Adara didn't have a real description for what she meant, but from what she had seen and gathered there was a difference between what happened to Talia and what happened to Brianna.

"What does that mean?" Angela asked, not really all that sure of what was being offered in the first place.

"I don't know exactly, from the limited information I have, both Isabella and Eliza and Eliza and Brianna bit each other. I don't know if that is why it worked, but I do know that didn't happen with you Talia because your mouth was sealed shut." Adara explained, although she knew she was hardly an authority on the subject.

"So that is why I cannot share in their gifts or speak to them with my thoughts?" Talia asked, feeling a wave of understanding.

"Maybe, is that something they can do?" Adara asked, unsure of what abilities Isabella and Eliza actually had.

"I've seen as much." Talia confirmed from her years working with Eliza and to a lesser extent Isabella. Not enough to be completely positive, but the signs were all there. Isabella had used that shroud of Eliza's more than once when she was nowhere around.

"I'm already a telepath, it won't change me much." Angela offered, and Talia smiled slightly before nodding. Then she looked at Adara again and got a wave of pain emanating from her.

"Did something happen?" Angela asked, without peeking into her thoughts.

"Complicated, and potentially dangerous. Angela, you are Isabella's sister and I do not wish to give you information that you may have to conceal." Adara warned, not sure if Jasper's complicity in Edward's manipulations would force them to track him down and kill him.

"But you seem troubled, and secrets are probably a bad idea this soon in the formation of the coven." Talia insisted, motioning towards the log.

Adara thought about it, and it was clear that Jasper had wanted them to know for some reason.

"Jasper knew about Edward. He knew about Alice, and… and he picked me because I look like his mother." Adara said somewhat reluctantly, her voice tired and pained.

"That's a lot, are you…?" Talia reached out and placed a gentle hand on Adara's shoulder, and the taller woman gave her a quick strained smile in gratitude.

"I don't know. I don't think I can forgive any of that, at least not any time soon. When he started talking about his Aunt Patty I just felt this pain building up in my stomach something fierce. We've been married for nearly fifty years, and he never said anything about me looking like his mother. I guess I've always wondered a bit, because Jasper and I do look a bit alike. But couples are often like that, people are drawn to what's familiar." Adara was trying to work it around in her head, and still couldn't settle on something that made any sense, unless the man she loved was as much of a liar as Edward, and a part of her refused to accept that idea as truth.

"That might be all it is." Talia suggested, trying to think of something positive.

"No, he basically said he slept with Patty because he couldn't sleep with his mother." Adara couldn't help but wince as the words left her mouth.

"That is worse, I'm so sorry Adara." Angela gave her a sympathetic look, and then almost offered to ease her pain, but decided against it.

"I'll be okay, and I'll watch over you two no matter how long it takes." Adara said, her voice far more confident than she felt.

Talia nodded and looked at Angela who shrugged and held out her wrist. "No time like the present."

Talia took a deep breath and on the exhale bit into Angela's neck in the same instant Angela bit into her wrist. A second later and they both collapsed onto the ground still latched onto each other. Adara extended her legs out and crossed them at her ankles and waited, watching in curiosity. She didn't know how long it would take, but she had absolutely no intention of leaving. She also had to figure out how she really felt about Jasper and his absolutely horrible admissions. Thankfully she had some time to think.

The Cullen Residence - February 7th

"I knew Esme wouldn't act without reason." Carmen said feeling both sick and relieved after the video ended.

"Carlisle won't take this very well." Eleazar observed, then pulled his wife closer to him. She snaked her arm around his waist and snuggled closer to him.

"Couldn't be worse than how he is doing right now." Kate said, glancing up towards Carlisle's office. Not sure if he had been listening in or trying to ignore it.

"Most of the house hasn't been sound proofed yet." Carlisle said from the doorway, startling the entire coven.

"So you know." Tanya said, holding out an arm for Carlisle, but he shook his head in rejection of any kind of comfort. Tanya dropped her arm and leaned back against the wall she was standing nearby.

"I did listen, and it will take me some time to process. A part of me already knew he wasn't my golden boy, but to accept that he was a monster that manipulated and hurt the rest of the family for decades is impossible to reconcile." Carlisle's brow was furrowed and he wasn't fully looking at anyone.

"Do you want to watch it?" Irina asked, pulling out the drive from the television and walking it over to him.

He held out a hand and she dropped it into his palm. He stared down at the small object and an expression of pain crossed his face, "I desperately do not want to see this, but I think I have to watch it."

"We were about to have a family meeting, you're welcome to join brother." Eleazar said with a wide smile.

"Thanks but I need some time alone to think." Carlisle managed a small smile in return.

The Denali all turned to leave for a familiar spot nearby, far enough away so that voices would not carry unless they were shouted. Carlisle went up to his office and plugged in the thumb drive and started the video. Listening had been hard, this was impossible. He watched it a dozen times on a loop, until he closed his laptop feeling utterly defeated and enervated. He moved into Esme's gallery without thinking, only partially aware of the world around him. His eyes searched and fixed on the remains of Edward's painting still sitting on the ground in a pile of splintered wood and shredded canvas.

He walked over next to it, dropping down on the smooth cool hardwood floor, with his back leaned up against the equally smooth cherry wood wainscoting that stretched up to the ledge where the rest of the paintings in the room hung above it. He hadn't carefully sat down, instead he sprawled in a moment of total mental defeat. His right leg was stretched out in front of him, the left was crossed and crushed underneath his right thigh.

Time soon lost most of its meaning as he sat unmoving and unchanging for hours on end. He was sure several people had come in to try and talk to him, mostly Tanya. Not that he responded to them at all, even when they continued talking at him in an attempt to engage him. Kate had even started insulting him and his family just to get a rise out of him. He honestly didn't care, nor did he really hear a word they said.

Deep within the tattered remains of the canvas was a singular eye. It might've just been a painting, but the detail was so lifelike it was almost like he was staring into the eye of his son again. It haunted him. Though it wasn't his death that lingered on his mind anymore, it was Esme's actions. They were cold and determined and without mercy. It didn't match the portrait of her he had hanging in his own mental space.

He wouldn't have agreed about the resolution, but he couldn't argue with the revelations she uncovered. A darkness had attached itself and festered within his family, shifting them to suit its dark purpose for decades, centuries. Until watching that video he would've never budged from his opinion of his son, his wife… they had seemed like the model of sanity and harmony within the violent world of vampires. A benchmark of humanity and non-violence that all other covens should strive for. To live as a family, not a coven, and erase the infighting that seemed to inevitably come to every coven eventually. If Carlisle had been honest, it always made him a trifle smug that he had succeeded where so many others had failed.

Esme had dashed all of that in an instant. Her actions were reprehensive, but justified. He had thought she was as much of a pacifist as himself, counting on it to a degree. For her to act in such a brutal manner was almost like letting himself go on a hunting spree. It felt counter to her nature. Or... had she ever actually said she believed as he did?

He remembered the friendly arguments he had had with Aro, all those years ago. The debates about the static nature of vampires, and how they all inevitably succumbed to the hunt. That the vestigial emotions of vampire youth, their last ember of humanity would always inevitably fade. Relationships formed during that time would fail, unless the mating was true on both sides. That violence was always the end result, because a vampire's nature is one of constant restraint. The pull to feed, when resisted, sears at the soul and eventually comes to the surface redirected towards those closest to them.

Carlisle argued that the very nature of vampires taking mates spoke to an underlying potential for much more. That forming a family could placate or even satiate those urges, and eventually subvert them. At the time it had only been theory, but after two hundred years with his own family, Carlisle had become convinced he was right. When Edward was first turned they had endless talks and arguments about vampiric instincts and nature. Eventually Esme had joined them, and those lively debates grew further and further apart. She had never once shown an interest in drinking human blood, and had only succumbed to the impulse once as far as he knew.

Only... she had also never really joined in those arguments about vampire nature either.

Esme had always smiled and nodded in agreement when he talked about the philosophy of vampire nature, but he was suddenly unsure if she was simply humoring his beliefs, or was she truly committed to his values as well? In the hours he spent staring into his son's faux eye, he turned those things over in his head again and again. And the one thing that kept coming back up was the idea that she couldn't have shared in his values. Otherwise the idea of taking another life, especially one of her own kin, would've been as impossible for her as the Sun setting in the East.

If that were true, if she didn't really hold the same beliefs as him, that meant she wasn't his true mate. Which felt like an impossibility. For nearly two hundred years she had been by his side. She had been his friend and lover, his confidant and most trusted advisor. Yet back hundreds of years ago, Aro's argument hinged on a strange and esoteric idea. That for all animals, even humans, mating was instinctual, and anything beyond physical and emotional love wasn't possible because they were natural beings. Aro argued that for a vampire, a mate was the other half of your soul. Literally a soul mate.

The idea that when a vampire truly mates, it wasn't just a series of physical and emotional reactions, but something deeper. That true mates almost became one, and that melding would only become more tightly intertwined as the years went on. Carlisle had always scoffed at the concept. As a scientist he couldn't fully grasp the point. Even Aro admitted it was a romantic notion, and felt like he was waxing poetic when he described it to others. But after nearly two millennia with Sulpicia, he was convinced that his ties with her were far deeper than any mortal love.

He had even used Marcus as an example. Given the sheer amount of time that he'd been alive, Marcus had never recovered from Didyme's death. He was mostly just a vacant shell, devoid of emotion and humor. He appeared capable of only the most rudimentary expressions of interest beyond his love of literature, art, and science, and of course when he tended Didyme's garden. Even those few pursuits were not much more than distractions for him. The heart of the man was gone with her.

Carlisle was never quite convinced of Aro's claims, but after he had been with Esme for almost two centuries, he came to understand a bit of what Aro described. He couldn't imagine life without Esme in it. She complimented him... completed him in a way that had become intrinsic to his nature. Yet no matter how much he loved her, could he truly claim that she was a part of his soul? He had never felt that sort of metaphysical connection. Then again, Aro had also insisted that all vampires lose control of their thirst at some point, and he never had. So Aro was clearly not always right.

When they argued over the nature of vampires, Aro had claimed that to hold things together a leader required force, or fear, or other even more vile methods to keep a group of vampires larger than two intact. Carlisle had been horrified at the capabilities of the vampire Chelsea, who was able to bond people to a group to such a degree that loyalty was the only possibility. It was a kind of power that contributed heavily to how the Volturi council kept their coven intact. To Carlisle, who valued choice as one of his most cherished values, it felt like an abhorrent form of mind control.

It was that concept of a loss of free will, and the Volturi's voracious appetite and diet of randomly culled people from surrounding cities that had made Carlisle leave the Volturi all those centuries ago. He forged his own way. He set out determined to prove Aro wrong, and he thought he had. His family had been proof that vampires didn't have to give into their baser urges, that they could be better than mere animals succumbing to instinct. His family had been bound together by love, and stayed together by choice instead through some form of coercion.

Hadn't they?

Carlisle's mind spun at the possibilities. Had he created vampires that felt indebted to him? Had he spent his entire life fooling himself? Did Esme feel obligated to adhere to his feeding habits? Did she feel she had no choice? The thought made him feel ill, almost as much as the idea that she might deep down want to let loose and kill. So he sat there on the floor and looked at the shred of canvas that was all that remained of both the woman he loved, and the son that had been a part of him for over two centuries.

Then he looked up and glanced around the room. The paintings loomed over him. The smiling faces of his family, captured in perfect snapshots in time. Alice in the 1980's with her bizarre hairstyle and even more disturbing wardrobe. She had lobbied Esme to do another one for decades, but Esme said it was perfect and refused. Next to her was Jasper, painted in an impeccable Italian suit. The background depicted a vague battlefield with the suggestion of a canon that would've been contemporary during his tenure in the Civil War.

Adara sat to his right, and her eyes were cast towards Jasper's painting. Her long hair and luxurious gown accentuated her elegance and beauty so that she rivaled even Rosalie. Rosalie and Emmett were next to her. Rosalie first, done just after her transformation. Her crimson eyes made her stand out even more than her unapproachable beauty, as the rest of the family was depicted with their amber irises. Esme had once explained the choice, that to her the eyes gave Rosalie an air of fierceness, despite the smile that hinted at the person buried beneath the ice queen veneer that she had maintained over the years. Emmett was the only one positioned sitting down, his goofy smile conveyed the joy of life and general humor that he exuded on a daily basis.

Carlisle almost smiled looking at his youngest son's face. He missed them all, more than he realized. Even though he had to admit that his love for them had qualifications. His love for Esme and Edward was unconditional, Rosalie he almost loved as a daughter, although he had trouble connecting with her. Emmett was a valued step-son. But Jasper, Alice and Adara, though he loved them, they were not his children. He had made the ultimatum as a token gesture to keep them from leaving. He thought the demand was heavy handed for sure, but there was no way they would abandon him. Now that he knew what Edward was, he just wanted to rebuild that relationship, even find some way to connect with Isabella and reconnect with Alice.

He glanced upwards at the empty spot where Edward's painting had once hung, and immediately closed his eyes and looked away. The wound was still too fresh, the knowledge of Edward's true beliefs too hard a pill to swallow. Edward's betrayal made everything so much worse. Because it meant Carlisle couldn't really grieve. He was angry, and had no way to resolve or dissipate that anger. He couldn't fix his son. He couldn't do anything. So he was left grappling for answers. Not only was he starting to spiral emotionally, he felt betrayed and abandoned. His entire life seemed to have been yanked out of his control with the fury of a category five tornado.

He glanced over at the new painting, and stared into the red eyes of Isabella. He wanted to blame her, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. Edward's deception had pretty much stolen away any possible impetus to blame her for anything. In every way she was the real victim of Edward's actions, someone so wronged by Edward, and to a degree the rest of the family, that she was broken before whatever happened to her. The guilt that his own role in her misery conjured was worse, forcing him to look away from the painting. While he never accepted or acknowledged it consciously, he knew exactly what Edward was doing all those years ago. He knew his son better than anyone. He knew Edward wouldn't have ever really given her a choice, no matter what she had said. His mind had been set on a course of action, and when that happened no one, not even Carlisle, could alter it.

He had told himself again and again that Bella was better off having a human life. That Edward had made the right call. But to be confronted with that utter failure, to know that the choice to leave was absolutely the wrong one, was nearly impossible to process. Carlisle had already been struggling with that choice he made all those years ago, but this was the first time that he knew he was completely wrong.

So why did he feel like Isabella had destroyed his life in every conceivable way?

It was irrational, but like a jealous lover he felt like Isabella had stolen Esme away from him. Moral and philosophical questions aside, his wife left him for another family. Romantic connections or not, it was a betrayal. A betrayal that he could find it within himself to forgive.

"Ha!" He laughed out loud, because he knew that was a lie. A nice lie told to make himself feel better. He wasn't going to forgive Esme. Not in one night or a thousand or a hundred thousand. She had made her choice, regardless of intent, and it had split their relationship in two. The noise prompted Tanya to poke her head into the gallery, he glared at her and stood up to face her.

"All lies. All of them. Aro was right all those years ago. Everything I tried to do has been utterly futile. It explains everything. Our nature. He was right. How else can I make sense of this failure, of why my family has completely abandoned me!" Carlisle's voice was manic, half crazed and half furious. He waved his arms at his adopted sister frantically, over emphasizing every word.

"They're still together, Carlisle. They're still a family. They're just not with you..." Tanya shut her mouth quickly as she realized what she said, then looked away from Carlisle's frightening eyes. "... for now. They'll come back to you. I'm sure of it."

"Bullshit!" Carlisle spit at her. Then turned towards the paintings. He stared at them for a split second, and started to move. He tore them down one by one, until he had gotten around the room to Esme's latest creation before Tanya could intervene. Not that she needed to. When he came face to face with the newest version of Isabella, and stopped cold as he really looked at the portrait. Esme had captured her completely, and it sent a calming chill down Carlisle's spine.

"It's not your fault. Edward..." Tanya started, but Carlisle held up a hand to stop her sentiment.

"No, it is my fault. I'm to blame for this. I need to be alone for a while." He looked at Tanya pleadingly, and she nodded once before she left the room in the next instant.

He stared into Isabella's eyes, "I'm sorry, Edward was a monster. I just can't… I think I'm falling apart because I'm trying to believe it, but it's so hard." Carlisle talking at Isabella's image and half expecting her to answer.

"Believe it." The image of Isabella replied back to him. He blinked, and realized it was just a projection of his perfect memory. Or maybe it was a hallucination. Either way it was what he needed so he didn't care.

"I don't understand. He did horrible things, but I can't believe that meant he deserved to die." Carlisle said to the painting earnestly, almost begging the image of his wayward daughter to give him the answers he was searching for.

"You feel betrayed huh? Join the club. How do you think I felt when you left without a word. I had Edward telling me you didn't want me, and that's it. I thought I was a worthless bug to you, a plaything that had been used up and tossed away. The pitiful human, I imagined you laughing at how desperate I was. Mocking me with the idea that I was actually going to be a part of your family. Ha! As if that was going to happen. Edward made sure of that." The smirk on her darkly shadowed face was menacing, and more than a little taunting.

"I thought we were leaving to protect you." Carlisle said the words but knew his voice betrayed him.

"Liar!" Isabella's image shouted at him.

"I... " Carlisle balked for a moment, and nodded once guiltily. Then he finally worked up the courage to respond. He wanted to apologize, instead he just let his words flow out unfiltered. "You're right, he was a monster. Yet I can't understand how my own wife could actually kill him. I mean it wasn't a slip of self control, she didn't give in to her thirst as she came across a human. It wasn't momentary, that I could understand. What Esme did was something else entirely. It was calculated and planned, it wasn't a heat of the moment thing, she made a conscious choice to track him down and destroy him. And… then she did it. SHE MURDERED MY SON!" The rage that came out was so powerful that his voice literally knocked over the easel holding the painting. Isabella's image went head over heels, and the delusion shattered in an instant.

Suddenly Carlisle was glad that Esme had never had the interest in painting a self portrait. He wasn't sure he could look her in the face anymore. He knew his reaction would be violent, or even worse... pathetic. He'd always been her protector. The one who had rescued her from death, and her horrible life of abuse both mental and physical. He couldn't let her see him weak.

He was caught between two impossible futures. One with Esme in it, where he would have to adjust to her being the person that killed his own son in cold blood. Or one without her and the rest of the family.

Neither sounded like a world he wanted to live in.

He just couldn't understand how she could go against two hundred years of history, against the values she had claimed to believe in. He couldn't quite comprehend that his wife had been the one that did it. He could understand her anger, even her rage at Edward and the situation he put them all in. Hell he was over Edward's admissions of manipulations and complete betrayal. But to kill him for making bad decisions? He hadn't really admitted the impulse out loud, but he had been convinced that Edward simply needed rehabilitation. He needed to understand and face the consequences of his actions. In the end the only tangible thing Edward had done was hurt five people that recovered fully, sure one had to be turned and they must've suffered greatly, but was that worth his life?

Carlisle couldn't get over the fundamental choice, that Edward was no longer worthy of life. That no attempt was made to rehabilitate him. He heard the words, and was partially convinced that Edward was deluded, and that all his issues might've been addressed in time. They had all the time they would need. They could've used their endless existence to heal his mind, especially with a new telepath in the mix. Which now that he thought about it made sense, he had probably been twisted by his own gift.

But to actually kill Edward? Even Isabella who had had almost a century of anger built up, a valid excuse and multiple provocations by Edward himself, including an actual attempt to kill her, hadn't crossed that line. If anyone could claim a right to kill Edward it should have been Isabella.

Not his wife. He just didn't understand.

Carlisle walked back to his office and sat at his desk and reluctantly played the video again despite feeling sick about it. It was too much, it truly was absolute confirmation that Edward was culpable and traitorous. After the fifth watch through he picked up his phone and walked back to the gallery, immediately moving through the window, now devoid of glass. As he landed he took off East, and once he was out of hearing range he dialed a number he rarely used.

"Yes Mr. Cullen." The voice on the other end was a pleasant feminine soprano, his personal favorite in the group that took care of their assets.

"I need the plane prepped for a long distance and a car ready when I arrive." He kept his words simple and clipped, almost detached.

"Destination Mr. Cullen?" The woman asked in a professional tone of voice.

"Pisa, Italy." He said then closed the phone.


Author's Note:

Sharp eyed original readers will recognize the final section, it is altered pretty heavily but I felt it was an important scene to include. Carlisle is clearly not in his right mind anymore, and yes the rational move would've been to go to talk to his family.

For those who like Jasper it does kind of seem like I threw him under the bus in this chapter, I will not confirm any specific details but I will say not all is as it seems.

The story is in an odd place, while some events from the original have not happened yet, the story is kind of passed where the original stopped. Several things that happened in the original will still occur, and soon.

Mafer Vz now that you mention the casting for Zoey I kind of can't picture her differently. So please let me know how you picture some of the other characters.

Curiouser I will try to work in Black Swan at some point, because you're right it is far too perfect to not use. I have the final conflicts mostly sorted out in my head but they are quite a ways off so things may change.

Wallflower, I hope this chapter clarified the process of turning vampires into ones like Isabella and Eliza. Basically a single bite works to change the vampire, but a full sharing of venom is needed to create the full link. So what Isabella gave Rosalie is the same as Talia, and what Talia and Angela did is going to be a full link.

Talia's soul connection with Angela is a different kind of imprint, but no less powerful. Isabella, Eliza and Brianna have all kind of experienced this, but none of them are emotionally stable enough to fully recognize those feelings. Talia is basically well adjusted so these new emotions were something she recognized within herself right away.