Chapter 2

Carlisle learned what he could during the course of the next day. He tried questioning Edward, who either legitimately didn't remember much of anything or couldn't bring himself to remember. Instead, Carlisle traipsed through the woods until he found the site. They had done a good job of covering their tracks – he would bet money that Demetri had organized the expedition – but he found the telltale signs of Edward's struggle: his claw marks on the tree trunk and in the soil. Edward had fought hard and Carlisle's heart rent metaphorically at the thought.

From his inquires, he was able to ascertain that they had come to the house shortly after he left, chased Edward, hunted him, until he was cornered in the forest. He knew Edward was probably faster and had the additional advantages of knowing the terrain and hearing their plans. But there were six of them, and the psychotic girl, Jane, and she had easily downed him before he even made it out of the woods.

If they had captured him early in the morning (the last thing Edward could remember clearly was Carlisle's departure for work and then the ominous buzz of their thoughts in his head), then they had kept him most of the day. They had left him at twilight, broken and lying in the woods. When he was cognizant, terror compelled him to crawl back to the house, unable to think of anything but finding Carlisle.

And Carlisle had stayed late at the hospital ….

Carlisle knew Jane's reputation well enough to shudder at the thought of what she might have done during that prolonged period. Edward couldn't recall the others' names, and their scents had faded to a point where Carlisle was uncertain if he recognized them. He guessed they were part of the Vanguard, but he didn't press the matter. It upset Edward too much.

Carlisle mentally ached as each additional bit of information came to light, and it was all he could do to force himself to place Edward's needs at the forefront and gradually coax him back to a semi-coherent state. He doctored his wounds and left him curled up on the couch, staring vacantly at the piano across the room. The older vampire needed to get away from the house so that Edward couldn't hear his thoughts.

He spent most of the morning evaluating possible motivations for the attack. This was the third encounter they had had with the Volturi in half that many months. He had dismissed the previous conversations with the Scout as mere reconnaissance missions; at the time, it seemed logical the Three were interested in what he was up to with a companion as he had waited some three hundred years to take one. Clearly he should have paid more attention to the Scout, given the extreme turn of events.

He couldn't think of anything he or Edward might have done to trigger such a full scale assault and could only conclude that he had unwittingly drawn Edward into a deadly game, one which played to Carlisle's core. The Volturi knew nothing of Edward's talent and could have no interest in him aside from Carlisle. Why make three separate trips to check on a newborn who was otherwise unremarkable?

He knew them well enough to know that the plan was either to break Edward, and turn him against his master, or break Carlisle by breaking Edward. He wasn't certain why this should be the goal or how it would play out or what it would mean for them in the future. He was certain they would return at some point.

He found it hard to believe they would feel threatened by the addition of one individual to his lifestyle. They had certainly made no secret of their intense objection to his choices, but he had always played submissive and kept out of their way. He was hardly amassing recruits to form his own competitive coven!

Caius, he knew, had always loathed him and would certainly have dispensed with him when he first arrived if Aro had not prevented it. Caius had craftily devised means to prevent him from hunting his own choice of sustenance.

Aro was simply bored and the games the others played alleviated his tedium somewhat. He had not stopped Caius whenever the latter had come up with some particularly savage means of forcing Carlisle's hand.

Aro… In spite of his better judgment, Carlisle almost felt fondly towards him.

Aro was what he was, but he was also curiously respectful toward – or maybe just interested in - Carlisle. They shared a passion for the intellectual and cultural life and Aro had even delighted in his medical studies. Aro had often sought him out to discuss the peculiarities of his existence and encouraged theological debates. Carlisle was certain that Aro was greatly amused by the addition of Edward to his life. And he couldn't but believe that Aro knew nothing of the attack; he may not have been able to prevent it, but it wouldn't be completely out of character for him to send a messenger to warn Carlisle.

At least Carlisle fervently hoped so.

And Jane did answer to more than one master. She was Aro's favourite, but she spent a substantial amount of time with Caius.

Caius! Carlisle growled.

Aro was his best bet, he decided - the only one who might listen to him.

If only there was some way he could convey his concerns to Aro, he might be able to prevent the matter from going further. Vampires mated for life, and Edward was his mate, albeit an unusual coupling. Vampire law forbade unwarranted attacks on another's mate.

But if he pursued the legal aspect of it, what would that mean for Edward? He shuddered at the thought that they might discover his talent. Even Aro would find himself much too tempted by Edward's potential as an asset to worry about something as trivial as the Law.

Carlisle sighed, mentally exhausted. It was unlike him to feel lost and angry and helpless and the turbulent emotions vying for dominance in his mind overwhelmed him. He sighed louder, and turned back to the house… and Edward.

He decided they would vacation as planned (to give them a chance to put the trauma geographically as well as psychologically behind them), but at the seaside rather than Boston. He didn't think Edward could handle the onslaught of so many new voices in his current state and Carlisle needed time alone to think things through. He also arranged to take an additional week off from the hospital, citing a family emergency back home.

They took the evening train to Boston, the overnight ferry to Yarmouth, and from there he ran, carrying Edward as well as their limited luggage. The extra weight impeded his progress but he ran far enough to find a secluded cove on the Bay. He immediately hunted for the two of them, bringing Edward game and cajoling him to feed. They bathed in the freshwater stream close by and Carlisle built a fire to comfort him.

Edward spent the next several days lying catatonic while his companion read to him. At night he curled up beside the fire, staring at the flames and listening to the lulling motion of the waves lapping the shore.

They rarely spoke, and when they did, it was solely for informational purposes. Initially, Edward's thought processes had been so disrupted that he had had difficulty following anything more complex than the necessity of feeding or Carlisle's physical path through the woods. He was mentally exhausted. Now he was able to carry on a conversation but lacked volition. He selected which questions to answer and ignored the rest. Carlisle, he with accolades for super human patience, felt extremely frustrated.

The seventh day it rained and they sought shelter further up the shore in a small abandoned fishing cottage. Carlisle cleaned it as best he could while Edward lay immobile on the small, single bed, staring at the ceiling.

There! All clean! Carlisle thought lightly, purposefully, turning back to look at Edward. He gnawed anxiously on his lower lip while he mulled over his approach. He took a deep – unnecessary – breath and walked over to Edward's supine figure. Edward?

"Edward." He knelt down beside him and gently ran a hand up and down his arm. Edward didn't respond. He might have been a statue.

Carlisle leaned in, breathing into his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. Edward still didn't respond, but neither did he reject the overture, so Carlisle ventured further. "Edward…" Pause. "I need to know what happened. I need for you to tell me so that I can address the problem."

Edward instantly retreated further into himself, sealing his eyes and clenching his jaw and fists. His chest caved as he held his breath. Carlisle suppressed the urge to bang his head against the bedpost and reached out with both arms to pull him close. He hugged him tightly to reassure him, his lips brushing his hair. Can't you tell me?

Edward was frozen.

"I know how hard this is for you." He kissed his forehead tenderly. "But I need to contact the Volturi and ask them for an explanation of what happened. If, as I suspect, Aro knows nothing of the matter, I will need to be very precise when I address him. If I don't know the individuals involved and exactly what transpired, I won't be very convincing and it will make it hard to protest." He kissed him again, first on the cheek and then lightly on the lips. Won't you tell me?

Edward shook his head stiffly.

Alright. Carlisle became, if possible, even more patient. He pressed his lips against Edward's temple and nosed his hair lovingly. "Just nod if you can so that I can fill in the blanks."

Demetri? And he provided a mental picture of the face he knew so well.

He felt Edward grow rigid in his arms and then shudder. Finally, a small nod as confirmation.

Alec? A groan and then another nod.

Very good, that's a good start. Carlisle encouraged, still lightly kissing his face. You mentioned Felix...

Edward sucked in a rapid breath that sounded like a hiss and his body convulsed. His mouth contorted as unnatural breath was expelled.

"Shhhh, alright, it's alright." Carlisle held him tightly and made soothing circles with his hands on Edward's back.

Was he the one who… took…your ring?

More anguished cries and Edward tried to pull away to escape the interrogation.

"Shhhh." I can guess what he did. Carlisle pulled him back, rolling him into a small ball that he nestled against him. He rocked him back and forth until the trembling abated.

After a long while, he resumed his line of questioning.

Did any of them mention Caius, or Marcus, or Aro?

Edward was listless and didn't answer immediately. Finally, a shake. No.

Did Jane tell you anything?

Edward cried out again, shuddering and inching closer to Carlisle. His hand began to twist desperately in the older vampire's shirt.

"That's alright, I think I understand how she works." He kissed the top of his head and rocked him again. "It's alright."

What did she say to you? Before Carlisle could stop himself, the thoughts had formed impatiently in his head.

Edward pressed his lips together and shook his head vehemently. He couldn't.

Did she ask you anything about me? Did she ask you to give me a message? Carlisle couldn't shut himself up. Could they have known he would be at work during the day, such a bizarre concept for a vampire anyway? Had they come for him and settled for Edward? But, no, they had been able to find Edward alone before. Demetri was an expert tracker.

Edward was shutting down again, the memory too overwhelming for him.

Carlisle fought to control his thoughts but they just kept coming. What did she tell you about me? He sounded impatient and harsh and he could feel Edward mentally retreating to escape him. He had to get away from him again before he did more damage.

Carlisle went through the door, literally, leaving it hanging by one hinge as he fled. He could hear the bed creaking violently with Edward's shaking, and he commanded his mind to pull itself together and turn back to help the boy.

But on and on he ran, desperate to escape the enormity of responsibility.

He collapsed writhing onto the wet sand, too confused by the torrent of thoughts and concomitant emotions in him to think coherently. After what felt like an interminable period, he grew still and forced himself to regulate his breathing to the ebb and flow of the tide until he had regained composure.

When he opened his eyes again, he stared thoughtfully out to sea, allowing his mind to accept only a very few possibilities for consideration.

He went back to square one. He had all but ruled out mere boredom. But, boredom, particularly centuries of boredom, led to extreme cruelty. What fun they had had with Carlisle when they had found him. He had been so different. Isolating him in a cage, starving him and then bringing him bleeding human bodies to force him to feed. (How amazing that he had never cracked under the strain.) They hadn't so much given up on changing him as they had simply agreed to get rid of him. He'd been a veritable pain in the neck.

So how much more thrilling to have Carlisle's mate with whom to play! It would be Cauis then - thinking of new ways to break up the monotony. A whole new web of intrigue and violent games for the court's amusement.

That was the first scenario. The one he was sure held a gruesome future for Edward. The one he prayed wouldn't manifest itself. He took comfort in the choice of personages sent. Only the rank and file attended, meaning it was orchestrated higher up for a more important purpose.

Scenario two, then: clearly they had had an objective in coming this third time. Twice the Scout had come simply to talk, the second time to speak with Edward alone and urge to return with him to Volterra, ostensibly so that he could experience real life as a vampire and not the pale substitute Carlisle offered him. Carlisle hadn't worried about Edward's vehement response at the time, but perhaps he should have. Perhaps Edward's championing of his maker had made the ruling powers uneasy. Perhaps they really did perceive the spread of Carlisle's unique lifestyle choices as a threat to their stronghold.

This was the preferred scenario (he was fairly confident he could diplomatically argue his way out of it, with Aro at least) but one that also made little sense to him. Carlisle had no aspirations in anything other than medicine, a fact which they surely knew after nearly a century of living with him! He was interested in helping people, not vampire politics.

Whatever the reasoning, the attack on Edward must have been to undermine his devotion to Carlisle. Somehow, they were trying to drive a wedge between the two, playing on Edward's youth and insecurity. Felix probably thought he could simply beat him into submission. Carlisle almost laughed. They certainly didn't know the boy!

But Jane...

The easiest way to turn Edward on him would be to convince him Carlisle had no real interest in or attachment to him. The scout had called Edward his cantante, and Edward had bristled at the idea. Carlisle had thought (uneasily at the time) that there might be some truth in that, but he had kept that from Edward. The boy was already insecure and lost in their new life and the last thing he needed to address was why exactly Edward was there with him. He really preferred to ignore the subject altogether.

But had Edward been his singer? Is that what had drawn him to the boy? Sitting by him in the hospital, reveling in the sensation of holding him in his arms, the terror of what might happen to him if boy died.

The taste of his blood…

Carlisle quickly suppressed those memories. He had too much to deal with already.

Whatever Jane said to Edward, it had caused him to shut down, something he hadn't done in awhile. And it was going to take a lot to bring him back.

Carlisle groaned out loud in resignation. And summoning all of his courage, he stood and walked back to the cottage to try to soothe the shattered boy.