It's been almost two weeks since that day in the kitchen and Carlisle sometimes wonders if he's indeed lost his mind. He spent so much time alone over the centuries, that now that there's this person—this woman—who wants to get to know him the way he wants to know her, well, it's so utterly wonderful, he almost can't wrap his mind around it. Almost.

When she agreed to court him that day, when she kissed him, he felt as if he had been waiting for her specifically. And that thought made the last three hundred years entirely worth it. He would wait a thousand years for Esme, yet he's eternally grateful that he doesn't have to.

Though courting, Carlisle thinks, doesn't really entail with accuracy what is happening between him and Esme. Certainly a great deal has changed over the last three centuries in terms of courtship, but the basic fact of the matter is that vampirism changes a lot of these social customs. Surely he never thought he'd find himself living with a young, unmarried woman.

Or that he'd find himself inexplicably drawn to her.

But really, he can't imagine things any other way, and though he doesn't exactly take Esme out on the town, seeing as she's still working on her control, he does find himself spending far more time at her side. He tells her things, stories from his past, and he pulls threads of information from hers: things that make her happy, things she thought she had forgotten. He talks and he learns, filing away these little bits of her in a vault that has no lock. That he's free to examine any time he wishes.

He needs no excuse now to request her company. No false pretense with which to disguise his longing. It makes his feelings all the more bearable, knowing he can reach between them as they run through the woods and take her hand. So he does that and she comes to him eagerly, pressing close to his side as they slow.

Carlisle looks around, inhaling deeply. They've already hunted and instead spent the afternoon sprinting through the woods. The farther North they move the taller the trees grow, until they tower overhead, blocking out almost all the sunlight.

Esme looks at him, eager eyes wide and attentive. Then her gaze wanders and she grows playful, pulling out of his arms and jumping to the lowest of the branches above them, swinging up easily.

Carlisle laughs. "I see you've yet to lose your fondness for trees."

She smiles. "I can't resist really." She presses her hands against the trunk, running her hands over the ridges of the bark. "Plus it seems only fitting, seeing as it was a tree that first brought us together."

"That is true."

"Tell me again," she whispers, grinning as she climbs to another branch.

"Of that day?"

"Yes."

"But you have a perfect memory now. You know very well what I'll say," he tells her.

She leans over the branch to look down at him. Her hair tangles in pretty waves around her shoulders. "Oh, go on, Carlisle. Please?"

He laughs, unable to resist her. Shaking his head, he takes a measured step, then launches himself up the tree, landing expertly in a crouch beside her. She shuffles back, only the tiniest hint of surprise in her eyes as a smile breaks across her face.

"I thought you said tree climbing was for reckless young girls."

"Did I?" he teases. He leans towards her, until she's backed against the tree trunk and there is nowhere to escape to.

"Hmm," she mumbles, drawing his attention to her lips. "You did. That's what you said when you first told me the story of our meeting that day."

"Well," he says, inching closer. "Perhaps I forgot to mention one thing.

Her eyes flicker down, landing on his lips before returning to his eyes. "What's that?" she asks.

"That tree climbing is exclusively for reckless young girls and vampires."

"Then I suppose it's good I am a vampire then."

"I agree," Carlisle says, cornering her against the tree trunk and letting his hand fall to the curve of her hip. He can feel her sharp intake of breath. "Because you are very much a woman now. An incredibly beautiful one I might add."

She blinks, her lashes fluttering and before he can think too much of it, he tilts his head and kisses her. It's short and sweet, but takes his breath away all the same. Esme's hands wrap around his waist, holding him to her. As he pulls away, she looks higher, towards the tallest of the evergreens, the ones whose firs seem to reach the bottoms of the clouds, and the scene on her face is pure wonder.

She looks back at him, and perhaps it is just wishful thinking on his part, but her face never seems to lose that look of pure, unadulterated wonder.

She makes him feel alive, in so many ways he thought had been lost to him over the centuries.

He feels youthful and giddy. He feels powerful.

He feels desire.

Then she slips from his arms and scales another branch, following the path upwards.

Smiling, he chases her up the tree, jumping to another when the branches become too dainty.

She laughs at his pursuit, climbing until they can go no higher.

He stands, hand pressed to the trunk of a nearby tree, watching as she holds fast to the trunk of her own tree, glancing down, with a wondrous sigh. "I've never been so high before."

"You won't fall," he assures her.

"Do vampires not slip?"

"I suppose we could, if we were distracted, though that would take a lot."

"So I might then, under unlikely circumstances, just like I did as a girl?"

"No," he says.

"How can you be sure?"

"I would catch you."

She looks taken aback at the sincerity of his words. At the utter promise he has laced into them. No, it is not in her nature to slip, and even if she did, she would not be injured. But that is all irrelevant, because he would never let it happen. Not again.

She smiles then, but not a shy smile. That's the thing with Esme. Nothing ever feels awkward or forced. The silence that stretches between them is warm and gentle. Much like her. So he feels no shame in what he has admitted. Instead the twist of her lips is playful, and she crouches upon her branch, limbs tensed for only a second before she springs, easily clearing the distance between the two trees and landing alongside him.

Just as promised, he reaches an arm out, securing it around her as she lands. In turn both her arms reach for him, falling to his shoulders. She laughs jubilantly as she holds him to her and the feeling is unlike anything he's ever felt. She's giddy in his arms, twisting on this branch they share to look up at him. "You caught me," she says.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

He can feel the stretch of her ribs as she inhales deeply. "It's marvelous up here. I think I'd like to paint it." She looks up at him, her smile becoming tender. "May we stay awhile? I want to see what it looks like under the sunset."

Carlisle nods. "I'd like that."

So they sit, tucked up against the tree trunk, watching as the sun dips between the thin evergreen firs, painting the world in limes and turquoises and colours Esme points out that he's never noticed before.

There's much of the world he's learned to notice, only now that Esme has come into his life. And it's in that moment that he decides he can truly never be without her. He needs to tie himself to her in ways that mean forever, so that everyone will know when they look at her that she belongs to another. So that she knows she belongs to someone who will love her and cherish her the way she deserves. So that under God, they are one. Because yes, he does indeed love her. He can court her for days and weeks and months, but his feelings will not change.

He's fallen for her, and it doesn't matter who tries to catch him now, he will never stop.