A list of more specific warnings below in the end notes for those who are concerned.
Esme and Carlisle are my faves. I'm always lusting after more material for them. This one has literally been on my ipad for 3 years, incomplete. Finally got around to fixing it up. I may come back and make the ending more to my liking.
Let me know what you think!
Carlisle was scheduled for a long shift at the hospital so the family had decided to drag Esme along so she wouldn't be at home alone. She laughs as Emmett playfully drags her out of the house.
"C'mon, Esme! You don't have to always be the doting wife waiting on Carlisle. Come have funnnnn with usss!" Rosalie shakes her head at her husband's antics, running beside Esme as Jasper and Edward sprint off as fast as they can. They're hours from home in the Canadian wilderness when they all part ways to go after their own animals. Emmett, Jasper, and Edward are more partial to large game that puts up a bit of a fight so they head farther into the forest. Esme finds herself parted from her daughters as they all search out their meals. There's the rustle of deer off to her right and perhaps a moose—
Then there's a sudden waft of a scent much sweeter than animal blood - and much more tempting. Esme holds her breath, frantic eyes darting around. The human didn't smell close, but she didn't want to further the temptation. She also doesn't want for any of the kids to happen upon the human. None of them enjoyed killing people, and she didn't want their fun hunting trip to turn into a reason for anyone to feel guilty.
She picks up the scent of her boys - the ones most likely to have a slip-up - and heads towards them. Before Esme can get much farther, she is knocked to the ground by a solid mass. The noise the collision causes is akin to a thunderclap. It's completely unexpected, and she isn't trained to anticipate attacks like Jasper. After nearly 100 years of peace with her found family, she doesn't foresee violence around every corner as she had when married to Charles.
Esme squirms beneath the much larger body, the strength of the being easily quadrupling her own. She tries to scream but can't. Her feet grapple for purchase on the snowy ground as she claws with diamond-hard nails at the figure pressing her down. She's always chosen to be a pacifist. But, knocked down to the ground with a hand around her neck trying to wrench her head from her body, she wishes she had joined her children in play-fighting.
Esme feels helpless as she hears her skin begin to crack under the immense strength of the vampire above her.
She hardly remembers what pain feels like. The only particular moments she can recall is childbirth and being turned. This sudden onslaught, however, jogs her memory of other suffering. Of her first husband Charles raping her. Of him beating her. Of crawling on the cold tile of a bathroom with a swollen eye and bleeding nose. Being pushed down the stairs when dinner wasn't good enough. Being tied to the bedposts over night until her wrists chafed so she couldn't 'disrupt' Charles. Those memories had fallen somewhat to the wayside in the 94 years she'd been a vampire. The joy of being with Carlisle, of building a family with him and growing to love herself had pushed her human pains to the back of her complex mind.
Now, though, it's all she can think about.
The vampire gets a bite in on her shoulder, and the sting begins immediately. Another to her neck, eerily close to where Carlisle had bitten her to change her. A last bite to her cheek has enough force behind it to rip, almost tear her diamond-hard skin away. She feels air flow under the wound, knows that her cheekbone must be exposed. She wants so badly to screech. Her kicking and bucking does nothing to dislodge the body above her. Despite not needing air, she feels suffocated, claustrophobic.
She wants free!
She finally gets a scream out and is almost immediately freed. Edward. He must have heard her thoughts of terror and tracked her location. Edward and the vampire were both crouched in front of each other, growling. Esme remained on the ground, fingers curled into the cold slushy dirt below her. Suddenly she is pulled up by a gentle hand. A familiar scent fills her nose.
Rosalie.
"Esme?" Rose is good at staying calm when the need arises, always has been. For all her theatrics, she is a level-headed girl. Her voice now, however, gives Esme pause. She sounds frantic. "Are you alright? Esme?"
Esme looks down and sees that she's trembling. Her hands are shaking, her knees are unsteady. Her clothes are torn, and there's venom dripping from the bite marks on her body. She looks up to meet Rose's eyes and suddenly her daughter knows. They have an unfortunately similar past.
"Oh, Esme." Her daughter wraps warm arms around her.
Jasper, Emmett, and Alice are all surrounding the newborn in an instant, joining Edward in keeping the hissing figure corralled.
"He was just turned. He's confused. Mostly he's angry. He was on the trail of a human hiker until Esme came into his territory. He thought Esme was going to take his hunt." Edward relays the thoughts of the newborn, his gaze remaining fixed on the violent newcomer.
"Do you know who you are?" Jasper asks, his body transforming into a non-threatening stance. He has the most experience with newborns, he knows how they read body language.
The newborn just hisses and makes to attack who he sees as the easiest target - Alice. Alice is quick, dodging the attack and leading the newborn closer to Jasper. The blonde man has little patience for those who threaten his mate and family. He has the yowling newborn in a chokehold in seconds.
"Edward?" Jasper inquires. This momentary lapse in attention is enough for the newborn to sink his teeth into Jasper's arm. At this, Alice hisses, angered that her mate will feel pain. Emmett is there, yanking the newborn's head back, eyes darting to Rosalie's. Rose nods, eyes flinty as she stays beside Esme, a comforting presence.
The newborn's head is torn off in a second. Emmett, Edward, and Jasper set about making a fire in a clearing and burning the body. Even the thick smoke doesn't serve to pull Esme from her trance-like state. She remains shaky and catatonic - a statue stuck in its own misery.
"Esme." Alice joins the two, squeezing her way into the hug. Esme knows her well enough to know that she believes this is partially her fault for not seeing ahead to stop the attack. Esme, however, could never blame her. Instead she sinks into them all, unable to fully support herself. Jasper comes in close, right by his wife's shoulder.
"May I?" She knows what he's asking, and gratefully extends her dirty hand. He cups it in both of his and sends soothing waves her way. Love, tenderness, sympathy, understanding - everything he feels for her. He can't leech pain, but he can lessen it by increasing her pleasant emotions, allowing her to take some of his strength. The emotions he's sending are made all the stronger by the contact.
She wants to thank him, but for some reason there's an ache in her throat. Her vampire body doesn't feel aches and bruises the way a human's does. There is no blood gushing everywhere, just venom injuries or torn limbs and flesh. This feeling is like nothing she's experienced before. Cold, like shock.
Jasper seems to understand, however, the gratefulness she can't yet voice. "Of course, mama." Under normal circumstances hearing him say that would make her so happy. Jasper was older than her technically, and often felt foolish calling Esme "mother" even if he did see her as the matriarch of the family. For him to indulge her so meant that he could truly feel how much pain she was in.
"Esme," Edward comes to her side, his eyes sorrowful. He can read the static-like buzz of her thoughts, can hear the low pained howl her mind is letting out. He shrugs out of his coat and dislodges Alice and Rose to wrap her up to preserve her modesty. "Would you like to head home, Esme?" He's so gentle with her, straightening her hair out over collar of the coat and keeping his tone low. Edward remembers what it was like for her in the beginning, the flashes she got of her terrible marriage and the abuse she suffered. He remembers what things triggered her in the early days. He experienced it all along with her and helped her move past it and embrace her gentle soul and kind spirit.
It makes him ache to see her sent back to that time, even if just in memory.
Esme doesn't speak, merely nods.
"Someone call Carlisle," Edward murmurs, hooking an arm around his adopted mother. She can hear someone on the phone, hear the quiet tones of her children speaking to each other. She can't make out the individual words, but the hum of their voices is a comfort.
Her first son indicates for her to climb onto his back. She hesitates for the first time since the incident. She hates to appear weak to her children. She likes the role she's taken as comforter and provider and guide.
"Esme, no. We're a family. We've all supported each other when we've needed it most. We love you." Her eyes burn as if they want to release tears. But she can't cry, hasn't been able to in nearly a century. Edward gives her a hug, each of her children gather close and offer silent support. She nods her head in readiness and climbs onto Edward's back, clinging to him tightly, her face in his neck. He squeezes her hands affectionately and they all begin setting back towards Washington. Her whole family remains tightly positioned together, she and Edward in the center of their group. Emmett spearheads and Rose and Jasper are beside them. Despite her still shocky state, she feels much safer.
When they're close to Vancouver, Carlisle all but runs into them. His hair is severely windswept. If he were human he would've been winded from exertion and anxiety. The moment he received the call from Alice saying Esme had been attacked, he'd yelled an excuse to a coworker and left. He swore he'd never run so fast in his whole existence. His eyes lock on to his wife clinging to Edward, noting how somber their children's faces are. Even Emmett looks dead serious. There's no teasing about how fast Carlisle got there - just a respectful nod.
"Darling," he approaches cautiously, not knowing where Esme's mindset is. The call had startled him so thoroughly that he didn't know what he was getting into. His hand rests softly on her back, rubbing soothingly. In his mind he asks how she's doing. Edward says nothing, just shrugs a bit. Esme's thoughts are all over the place.
The movement seems to arouse Esme to her whereabouts. She had been able to smell Carlisle close, but her mind was a wreck. Focusing on any one stimuli was too much. Nonetheless, she looks up to her husband. Her face immediately crumples. He sees the new bite mark on her face, the skin is angry looking from being viscously torn off the bone. It had to have been truly violent to have caused enough damage for healing to still be occurring so long afterwards.
"Oh, sweetheart," Carlisle says, pained. He can't help himself from taking her from Edward, from holding her tightly to him. She hisses when he brushes against her shoulder, and he looks at her in alarm. He gently eases the jacket away - now noticing that it's Edwards, not her own - and sees how her shirt is torn. His eyes are then drawn to the bite on her shoulder and one that is overlapping the bite he placed on her neck to turn her. He can smell the venom of another on her, and his nostrils flare disapprovingly. Esme sees this, eyes cast towards the ground. Carlisle shakes his head, angry at himself for falling prey to his instincts. He hooks a finger under her chin gently, careful not to bother any of her wounds, and presses a kiss to her forehead in a benediction.
Their children are still near, but have moved out of visibility to give the illusion of privacy. It is against their instincts to go far away when their matriarch is harmed.
"I'm so sorry, Esme. My darling wife." He wraps her up tight, arms banding around her smaller body, and she clasps to his front with her legs wrapped about his waist and good arm around his neck. "Should have been there with you. Failed you - oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. You must be hurting so." He keeps whispering to her, pressing kisses to her hair, fingers gentle on her back as he soothes her (which in turn, soothes himself).
"Carlisle, please." Her first words spoken since the attack are gravelly, her throat tight.
"Darling, what do you need?" He's so ready to bend to her every whim, always has been. His existence had been so empty before her.
"To go home. Want to be in our home surrounded by our family and be safe."
"Of course."
He sets her down in their living room. Alice fetches his old-fashioned doctor's bag that houses his most basic supplies. Carlisle removes gauze and sterile wet wipes. He seems to hesitate as he reaches for her face, eyes scanning over the bite there and the area of healing torn skin.
"This will hurt," he murmurs, stroking over her unharmed cheek gently.
Esme nods absently. He knows to help speed up the process of healing and lessen the pain, he must remove as much of the foreign venom as he can. That requires opening the cuts and siphoning the venom out. To let the venom sit is to let it permeate and cause further irritation. No man-made metal tools are strong enough, so he must use his own nails to cut open his wife's skin.
It's not a task he's looking forward to. But it is something that must be done.
Edward is close at his side, ready to lend a hand. Jasper sits next to Esme, sending calming vibes her way, Alice at his side. Rosalie stands behind her, stroking her hair and humming gently. Emmett is a steady presence nearby. Everyone is ready to support her, and despite the recent occurrences, she feels so lucky to have them all. This aid was something she had prayed for at her worst times.
Carlisle takes a steadying breath, and slices over the cut with his fingernail. Esme holds in a hiss as the clear venom leaks out. Carlisle takes a syringe of sterile saline and flushes the wound, patting with the gauze. He is paced and methodical in his work. This isn't far off from what he spends his days at work doing. He keeps his eyes on the wounds, tries not to think too hard about the attack that caused it. If he does, he'll drive himself mad. He'll try to save the self-flagellation for when he is away from his dear wife, away from his son who is forced to witness his every thought.
His fingers slide over her cheek when he's done cleaning the area. The tissue can now heal without a pocket of venom beneath it to irritate the process. Despite his careful work, a pale scar is already forming on the high point of her cheekbone. He tries hard not to fixate on it. There will be no way to get rid of it, to save Esme from this new addition to her visage.
Her neck is next. Carlisle slices open the skin over the poorly healing cut and immediately squirts sterile water over it. Esme hisses, trembling fingers squeezing at his knee. He murmurs an apology, leans down to press a kiss to her crown before resuming his work. The damage here isn't nearly as dire as what was done to her face. For this, he is glad. More force applied to her neck could've meant her head could've been ripped clean off and —
Edward grunts and gives Carlisle a look.
The doctor closes his eyes for a moment. Best not to focus on how his wife could've died and he could be a widow right now if not for his kids.
Esme's shoulder is last. Carlisle has to pull Edward's jacket off to see the wound clearly. The tattered remains of Esme's shirt cling weakly to her body. There are tears where the newborn's nails ripped through. Carlisle had had a cursory look before, but now he really takes in the damage done. There is a quick inhale from Rosalie, and Carlisle can't help but look up.
His daughter's gaze is riveted to where Esme's shirt is torn. Her brow is furrowed and her eyes haunted.
"Rose..." Emmett stands behind his wife and wraps her up tight in his arms. Edward sends a rare sympathetic glance her way, a hand moving to cover one of hers. For once Rosalie doesn't hiss and shake him off.
Esme cranes her head cautiously, wincing at the tug on her skin the action causes. "Rosie, you don't have to be here, honey." His wife, even when in her own pain, always thinks of others. She and Rosalie share a violent past and understand each other in a way none of the others do.
"No, Esme. I'm here. I just..." Rosalie grimaces and snarls silently. Her teeth are bared and her face enraged at her own memories and the violence done to her mother. Emmett clenches his eyes shut in sympathetic pain behind her; he truly hates to see his mate in pain.
"I love you. Thank you, honey." Rose gives Esme a wobbly smile and bends to kiss her hair. The blonde woman murmurs her affection into her mother's locks.
Carlisle is so glad to have this family that supports each other. Suffering alone is terrible, he knows that much. He recalls cold nights alone and no one to commiserate with or help carry the burden of their existence.
"You alright if I finish this up, love?" He indicates to her shoulder. Esme nods, looking impossibly exhausted. Carlisle gently removes the tatters of her shirt and bra, noting how everyone in the room respectfully averts their gaze.
There are claw marks diagonally from Esme's lower ribs, over her right breast, and up to her trapezius. The marks are a bright white but will fade back into Esme's normal skin tone because of the lack of venom. Still, they look uncomfortable. The only area Carlisle can really help with is the bite at the cap of Esme's shoulder. There is the distinct scent of foreign venom clinging to this spot. Once again, Carlisle slices in and flushes the area. Esme barely flinches at this last one. He hates that she's grown so brave.
Carlisle pats the last irrigated wound, "all done, darling." He leans forward and kisses her forehead, pushes her mussed hair back. There are twigs and mud clumped in her curls.
Esme leans forward and collapses into his chest. He catches her easily, wrapping her tightly in his hold. She's soon curled into his lap with her face in his neck. "Can you clean my hair?" She asks quietly.
"Anything," he says fervently, lifting her carefully and making his way to their bathroom. He hears the kids converge to sit in a circle of comfort near Rosalie.
Carlisle is so careful with her that she could cry. He washes the mud from her hair with a softly scented shampoo and smooths his fingers through to ensure that there're no tangles. She's seated in their large tub, knees drawn to her chest. Carlisle mindfully runs a loofah over her healing neck and shoulder, sluicing away the scent of the other vampire.
"I love you so much," he whispers as he watches the water run over her pale skin.
Esme shifts in the tub to face him, still seated. "And I love you." Carlisle cups her face in both of his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks as he just stares at her. His touch is so deliberate yet passionate. His eyes seem almost glassy as he pushes a strand of her wet hair from her face.
"I am happier than I can ever convey that you are safe." If Carlisle had the capability, he would be crying. Knowing that Esme was almost lost to him is a harrowing thought. As soon as she came into his life, she became integral.
Esme suddenly stands, water streaming down her body as she steps out of the bathtub. Carlisle rises and grabs a fluffy towel for her, moving to begin to dry her off. He treats each limb of her body with tenderness. A separate towel is used to wring water from her hair. Carlisle is painstakingly cautious with her curls.
They move into the bedroom and Esme slips into one of Carlisle's sweaters, some fuzzy socks, and a pair of soft shorts. Even though she doesn't get cold, she still enjoys cozy clothing. She holds out her hand and Carlisle follows her without question. The instinct to be close is always present after something so harrowing.
The others are still huddled downstairs. At the sight of their matriarch, they make space on the couch. Esme cuddles in next to her husband and Rosalie. Alice, from her spot on Jasper's lap, looks restless. "Esme... I'm sorry I didn't see it coming. He must have caught the scent of the you before the vision could even come to me."
Esme turns to look at her smallest 'daughter'. She knows how heavily Alice relies on her visions to keep everyone safe. She isn't a big, hulking being but she still loves her family fiercely. "I don't blame you, Alice. Not one bit. The only person to blame is the newborn, and even he is difficult to blame because he was so young and no one showed him any better."
Edward scoffs and shakes his head in wonder. "You and Carlisle are far too kind."
Esme, in a surprising show of immaturity, rolls her eyes. "I'm certainly not okay with what happened. I'm... still very uncomfortable," she admits. Anything that reminded her of Charles and her previous suffering was unwelcome. She doesn't like falling back into those memories. They make her feel small and scared again.
Carlisle smooths a large hand down her arm and tries to imbue all the love he can into the simple touch. He presses a kiss to her cleaned curls, breathing in the scent of her, safe and sound.
"We won't let it happen again." Edward says with an unearned confidence.
"You can't promise that, sweetheart," Esme chastises gently. Edward huffs because he knows she's correct. "The only promise I ever need is that you all will be a support when needed."
"Always," Emmett assures. Rosalie nods beside him, her eyes determined. Jasper sends Esme waves of affirmation.
"That's the most I can hope for. Having you all makes me very lucky." Carlisle hugs her tight to his side.
"We're the ones who are lucky to have you." A ghost of a smile crosses Esme's lips at her husband's words. She presses a kiss to his neck and nuzzles in close. The comfort of her family soothes her. Despite her inability to sleep, she feels like this security in their presence is therapeutic. The murmurs of her family wrap her up warmly. She knows that everyone will be sticking close to her for the coming months.
Notes:
In general, be aware that there are mentions of past assaults during Esme and Rose's human lives. Mentions of Esme's human husband, Charles. There are also mild descriptions of injuries done to a vampire.