So an update. Finally, huh? I won't even apologize because nothing I say can make up for it. All I can do is hope you enjoy the chapter, and dont hold a grudge! A few things happened, which meant the extreme delay of this story: SCHOOL. My old computer crashed resulting in all the files for FF being deleted. And also, for a little while I lost the motivation behind this story. But it's not right of me to leave you guys hanging like that so I've decided to re-find (is that a word..) my motivation and continue FF for your reading pleasures. As always, curse me for taking so long on this, but please leave a review ;)

You tell me where to go/And though I may leave to find it/
I'll never let your head hit the bed/Without my hand behind it
-"Your Body Is Wonderland" - John Mayer

Chapter Four

Burden

I hastily wiped at the chocolate smudged on my nose with my sleeve, but only proceeded to make the mess larger.

Carlisle was seated across from me, his fingers entwined beneath his chin, watching me intently. I caught his eye and for a moment we both were silent and still, before a slow smile formed on his face and we simultaneously erupted into a fit of laughter.

I wasn't even sure why it was so funny. I mean, to be honest, my daily blunders weren't something to be unexpected, but oddly, Carlisle and I found it so wholly amusing that I was wiping tears from my eyes almost immediately. I noticed, through our boisterous chuckles, that we had been laughing like this a lot lately.

I supposed that was the effect that Paris had on foreigners. The locals always seemed oblivious to all of the little things about the city that made us smile and stare in awe. They simply bustled importantly from place to place, taking little notice of anyone or anything but their personal agendas. I figured two things, that they must either be so used to the city everything was now boring to them, or they were just accustomed to the tourists. It had to be the latter. I couldn't understand how someone could think Paris was unremarkable; it was hard enough for me to gaze at any sight without gaping like an idiot. The city had the admirable talent of upholding charm and a quaint home-y feeling while at the same time managing to boast change and also establish itself as a real contender in fashion, entertainment, and of course, food.

Our laughter subsided and Carlisle shook his head gently. "Oh dear, Bella."

He reached over with his napkin in hand and gently wiped off what I had missed from my nose.

"It's not my fault," I stated matter-of-factly, "This thing is too good. I couldn't control myself if I tried." I took another indulgent bite. "What is it called again?"

"A profiterole, Bella," He said patiently, "And you're drizzling chocolate on your shirt again."

I swallowed and smiled at him sheepishly. "Well, it's good. Really good."

"I'm glad you approve." He smiled.

I went back to eating my pastry and sighed appreciatively at the warm, sunny weather; it was an enjoyable contrast to gloomy Forks. We were seated on the bistro's terrace, and the afternoon sun basked my back, warming my bones, but did not glare into my eyes, offering a welcome chance to watch the bustling scenes before me. It was all quite cozy, to say the least.

I glanced around at the other tables arranged about the patio and was amazed, once again, at just how fast and fluently French people spoke. The language sounded harsh yet soothing to the ears at the same time. Two ladies at an adjacent table were in a deep discussion, hunched over their cappuccino mugs. The conversation was punctuated frequently by each taking turns to gasp loudly and exclaim "Mon Dieu!". I regretted not taking French in school now, it would be interesting to eavesdrop on that conversation.

Carlisle had picked up an abandoned newspaper and had been shuffling through it peaceably beside me, before abruptly stopping to read an article near the end. I saw his eyes tense suddenly as he absorbed the information, and they flew down the page to fast for me to see. I finished the rest of the profiterole and wiped my mouth before leaning over to see what had caught his attention.

One glance showed me that the newspaper was, of course, in French, but the photo was enough to make me stare.

"What's the article about?" I asked, pointing to the photo of the bloody hiker's jacket.

"A hiker's gone missing." Carlisle answered distractedly, still reading the article, "They could only find the jacket he had been wearing that morning. Police are calling it-"

"An animal attack." I finished robotically, my stomach churning. I felt like I had heard this story before.

Edward stepped out of the Volvo and approached Carlisle worriedly. I watched the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance while following behind him. The lifeless body had been covered in a simple white sheet. I thought I could see an pale foot dangling over the edge of the stretcher before a paramedic slammed the doors closed.

"Carlisle, what's going on?" Edward asked tensely.

Carlisle sighed as if the words caused him actual physical pain. "Waylon Forge was found in a boat out near his place, I just examined the body."

"He died?" I asked blankly, refusing to let the words to sink in. "How?"

Carlisle gave Edward a significant look and I felt him tense beside me.

"Animal attack."

"I thought we'd left this stuff behind in Forks." I said quietly.

"Unfortunately Bella," Carlisle said gravely, "The threat is everywhere. Vampires are everywhere." He added in a low whisper.

I frowned and leaned back in my chair, swirling the access chocolate in my dish with my finger.

Carlisle reached over and squeezed my free hand. "Bella," He said softly, "Don't worry about this. I know it really must seem like this burden is following you everywhere, but believe me, this kind of thing has been happening for a really long time. You've only just started noticing it now that you're more…attune to it."

"I know. But still. That hiker."

"The vampire responsible will leave a body behind. That way the hiker's family can have a respectable farewell."

"What's this?" I said teasingly, feeling my mood slightly pick up again, "Vampires have etiquette now?"

"French vampires do." He replied seriously. I pulled a smirk and bit back a chuckle.

"They do, do they? I'm not so sure that attacking a defenceless hiker could classify as etiquette."

"They do." He insisted, "I lived here for a brief time after leaving the Volturi. It was when I had begun my studies in medicine that was I first met the French vampires, or as they like to call themselves, 'Sauvages'. Savages." He rolled his eyes in good humor.

"Okay." I said, indicating for him to continue.

"They were educated." He went on, "And more like humans than any of the others I had met. Quite different from the Italians, I must say. But they couldn't be called savages, really. Yes, they killed humans for their food…but they shared some unwritten code of etiquette amongst themselves in regards to hunting. Each death had to be as painless and swift as possible for the human, and once the vampire had taken the blood, the body would be left untouched to be reclaimed by the families of their victims. From what I learned, it was a very old tradition."

"But why would they do that?" I asked, confused. "I mean, not that that's not good or anything, but why would they want to treat humans so reverently? They're stronger and more powerful than us. Most vampires would want to take advantage of that."

"And so you see, Bella," Carlisle smiled, "Just how different American and French values are. Vampire values, anyway. The French respect what they are and most importantly, what they came from. They were all human once too. It's as simple as that. Which makes their name even more ironic," He pondered thoughtfully, "I think they probably want to seem more threatening than they actually are. For their protection."

I was amazed. These French vampires sounded like they were more than just the mindless killers I knew all vampires, except the Cullens, to be. In fact, they reminded me exactly of the Cullens in the way that they valued human life. I suddenly felt less agonized about the hiker's death. His family would at least have some peace of mind at the end of it all. And if what Carlisle had said was true, then it would be an painless end for him as well.

"I guess I can breathe a little easier now. At least if a vampire attacks me here, they won't be like James. Or Victoria." I laughed lightly.

Carlisle's smile faded. I could sense his unease about the lingering threat of our redheaded friend. "The trouble is, vampires like Victoria and James resemble what the majority of vampires value. Blood, survival…nothing else. The Sauvage or the Cullen way of life isn't so openly adopted."

I hastily changed the subject. "Do you remember any of them, then? The French vampires?"

Carlisle's face brightened as he smiled, suddenly remembering. "I do. There were two young women, Anneliese and Solenne, who were closest to me. Solenne was roughly the same age as me, she was also twenty-three when she was turned, but she was changed a year before me. Anneliese was about a year and a half old when I met her. I remember the bright red was almost completely gone from her eyes at that point, which meant she was almost past the newborn stage. They were closer to maroon. Solenne was teaching her the Sauvage way of life as a vampire."

I leaned forwards, genuinely interested. "Where did you meet?"

"Remember how I told you that the Sauvages valued education? They were also taking night classes at the same university I was. They knew what I was the moment I set foot into the class and were curious about the color of my eyes. We began to talk and they were genuinely interested in my way of life, instead of disgusted, like the Volturi had been. I soon met the others and realized that had I not adopted vegetarianism," He said chuckling, "I'd have preferred their philosophy on Vampirism above anything else."

"Did you keep in touch with them?"

"Sadly, no. I haven't heard from either since leaving Paris. " He admitted ashamedly. "But, that was a long time ago. Centuries."

"Well, maybe we can find them." I said brightly, "That way, you can see Anneliese and Solenne again."

Carlisle smiled genuinely up at me and I felt the same kind of warming joy I knew he was feeling. "That sounds great." He was beaming.

"Well, where do we start?" I asked, business-like, "Do you have an old address, or anything?"

"No. The Sauvages never liked to stay in one place too long." He said shaking his head, "But I do remember that Solenne was registered at the university as Adelais Blanche. And Anneliese had taken the same last name as well. They looked passably alike so they posed as sisters."

"That's a good place to start," I said reassuringly. "We can try and find some of the old university records, if we can."

Carlisle nodded. It made me happy to see him so excited at the prospect of this and I promised myself I would help him find Anneliese and Solenne no matter what it took. His excited smile was nervous at the same time, anticipating the reunion with his old friends. He reached over and squeezed my hand.

"Thank you, Bella."

The intensity of his gaze made me avert my eyes and I hurriedly said, "It's no problem." I pushed my hair behind my ears and straightened my shirt. "We should pay and get out of here, I don't like the way that waitress is making eyes at you."

And sure enough, the staring waitress fumbled her notepad and blushed when Carlisle turned around in his seat and looked her way. He chuckled good naturedly back at me and dropped a wad of cash on the table before taking my arm and leading me out onto the bustling street.

Carlisle was busy on the phone and I was playing Scrabble with myself on the floor when the door knocked that evening.

Carlisle poked his head out from behind the bathroom door, where he had been conducting a low, whispered conversation that I was trying my hardest not to eavesdrop on, and looked towards the sound of the knock. I pulled myself off the floor, and waved him back into the bathroom, indicating that I'd answer it.

I heard the bathroom door click and the low whispering started again, but it sound agitated now. I tired to push my curious thoughts away and swung the front door open to reveal a smartly dressed hotel worker. He wore a jacket of some shiny, pleated gold fabric with the hotel's name embroidered on the left breast pocket.

When he saw me, he bowed slightly, and sprang up again, beaming. "Bon soir, mademoiselle. Comment est votre soirée?"

I would have been less pathetic had we gone to Spain. At least I knew a few broken words of Spanish from my years of American schooling. French, however, was a completely different story. The only French word I'd picked up on was "oui", and even that I spelled as "we".

"Um…oui?" I asked hopefully.

The worker threw his head back and barked with laughter. "Oh, you are so funny, American girl," He replied in a thick accent, "I only asked 'ow you're evening iz going!"

I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "You do know English!" I accused him playfully, "You wanted to hear me embarrass myself, didn't you?"

He laughed harder, if it was even possible. No one had ever thought I was this funny before. Not even Renee laughed at my jokes. She told me they 'lacked character'. I realized now that she was telling me politely that I was not, under any circumstance, funny. I didn't take offense from it, after all, it was true.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" I teased, leaning against the door frame.

The hotel worker was still doubled up laughing at me before he suddenly remembered why he was here. He straightened himself up and wiped the tears from his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

"Yes, mademoiselle. So. Yes." He cleared his throat, "I 'ave come to remind you and monsieur Cullen of your dinner reservations tonight. Zey are at 'alf past eight at L'Obé. Ze table you 'ave chozen iz high demand, so we ask zat you are kindly on time."

I tried not to look surprised. Carlisle hadn't mentioned any sort of dinner reservations. I had figured I would just order room service for dinner or something, seeing as Carlisle didn't eat, and I wouldn't to put him in the position to take to me out to dinner and spend even more money on me. I smiled lightly regardless, feigning no surprise; it was nice of him to plan this, even though he would be participating to the bare minimum, and that in itself would be awkward enough. How exactly do you make reservations at a high demand restaurant and leave with only one person haven eaten? I nodded at the worker.

"Thank you, we will be there at eight-thirty then."

He smiled and teasingly said, "Oui," before bowing again and making his way down the hall.

I smiled at his retreating figure and closed the door, resolving to first find Carlisle and thank him right away. I traipsed to the bathroom door, left slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open, hoping he'd be finished on the phone by now. I peeked inside, smiling, and saw that Carlisle was sitting with one leg up on the bathtub ledge, and one hand pressing the phone to his ear, the other pulling agitatedly at the ends of his hair. He was frowning.

I quietly retreated back out into the hall but not without hearing a few of his words.

"I'm half way across the world. What do you want me to do?" His voice was hard and steely.

He paused to listen to the reply.

"Don't blame this on me. Edward needed my help, how could I refuse him that? You encouraged this."

Another pause. Then he laughed. Only, it wasn't the kind of laugh I was used to. It was oddly constricted and biting.

"I don't see how this is my fault. If you wanted to work anything out, you shouldn't have let me go."

Pause.

"And then what would Edward have done? Leave Bella in danger? You know as well as I that this is her safest option considering the circumstances."

Then, the longest pause yet. Carlisle scoffed.

"Fine, if that's how you see it. Then yes, you know what, you're right. Maybe I do care more about Bella than you. Now remember, those words came out of your mouth."

I froze. Whoever was on the phone with Carlisle was fighting with him about me. I gulped hard. My throat was suddenly dry. I felt too sick to listen to more but I couldn't pull myself away from the door. I stayed frozen, feeling like an intruder yet somehow oddly entitled to knowing what was being said about me.

"This is the problem. You blame me for everything. This wasn't my idea. You act like I planned this, like I suggested it. You are just as much to blame here. You need to understand that."

He paused again.

"Yes, of course I do. Of course I want to be here. Bella's safety is my number one priority. Nothing comes before her."

I can almost hear the voice on the other end. Nothing at all?

"Nothing at all." He affirmed. A pause again.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have dinner reservations and Bella and I can't miss them."

Now my ears were straining to hear the final words of the caller's sentence.

Fine. I love you. I'll call you later tonight. I could barely make out the soft words.

Carlisle sighed brokenly.

"Do me a favor and don't, Esme."

I'm sure I didn't start breathing again until I heard Carlisle click the phone off, and his footsteps beginning to approach the door. Thinking of nothing but how much I didn't want him to know what I overheard, I scurried back to the living room and pretended to occupy myself with cleaning up the Scrabble pieces.

Carlisle took a step into the room barely a moment later. I kept my head bowed over the game board and continued to fiddle with the letters. The ones in my hand spelled L-I-E. How appropriate.

"A hotel worker came by to remind of us some reservations." I said offhandedly, clutching the letters so hard that the corners dug into my skin.. "They're at eight thirty."

"Yes, sorry I forgot to mention it." He said cheerfully. I nearly dropped the game pieces in my hands when I heard how normal his voice sounded. It was as though nothing had transpired in the bathroom but a peaceful phone conversation.

I suddenly felt like vomiting, and I didn't know why.

"That's okay."

Carlisle paused. "Are you all right, Bella? You sound-"

"I'm fine," I say a little too quickly, shooting a smile at him that I just knew was terribly unconvincing. He looked a little unsure but decided, evidently, to drop it. I was relieved.

"I think I'm going to take a bath and then get ready for dinner, okay?"

Carlisle nodded and I started towards my room. Then, I stopped in an awkward half-step and turned around to face him. "Thanks for making dinner plans, Carlisle. You know you didn't have to."

He smiled again. "Yes, but I wanted to."

"Well," I said unsurely, "Thanks for that."

He shook his head and chuckled, before turning on the television to the news. I slinked away into my bedroom, and pulled the doors closed with a sigh.

I braced myself against the strong wood for a few moments and tried to pull myself together. A few deep breaths seem to calm me down and I ventured forward a few steps. Realizing that I no longer felt dizzy, I proceeded to the bathroom to fill my tub.

Only once I was submerged wholly in the scalding water did I finally let myself think back to Carlisle's unsettling phone conversation. It made me shiver even in the burning water to know that he had been fighting with his wife. He had sounded so hostile…so frustrated and hopeless. The person in that bathroom was so unlike the Carlisle I knew, it was sickening.

It made me shiver even worse to have to accept that the two of them had been arguing about me.

With a low moan and seeking temporary escape from my thoughts, I sucked in a breath and let my head slide under the water, just wishing, hoping, to drown all these worries away.

And maybe myself too, if I was lucky.

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