Disclaimer: Don't own it, just get a kick out of writing about it. Thanks Stephenie!
A heartfelt thank you goes out to my beta, Emilie Fauve, the resounding expert on all things Carlisle! As always, your suggestions (and hilarious comments) make this way too much fun!
We sprinted through the dark forest, hand in hand, until we reached the edge of the King property and studied the murrain scene before us. As we drew nearer, I began to taste the ash in the air from the raging fire. Bits of glowing embers of wood drifted down around us as we continued to move forward, threatening to ignite any dry, combustible foliage; but there were more important matters at hand to be concerned about than the fire spreading to the surrounding landscape.
Rosalie's mind stayed blissfully focused on the task at hand as we crept through the shadows along the edge of the woods. The silence allowed me to more easily search out the thoughts of the King clan as they rushed from the house to investigate the burning outbuildings.
The blast we had heard earlier became quite a fortunate occurrence. Royce's father was the first to approach the barn, and he was now thoroughly convinced that the exploding gunpowder had started the fire, not the opposite.
The shed where Royce had taken his last breath was almost completely gone. Every human who wandered between the two buildings suspected that the smoldering embers from the barn had ignited the shed - most were too distraught to notice that the shed had actually burned first. I had noticed that the human mind, in the event of serious trauma, sometimes simply refused to accept the truth of the situation—it was a remarkable sort of coping mechanism, triggered by stress, and in this case, worked well to our advantage. I was fairly certain our secret would be safe.
Despite our reoccurring bouts of good fortune in hiding the crimes from Royce's family, I remained wary of Rosalie's newly heightened ability to interpret my unconscious reactions to those around me; she would, no doubt, strong-arm me into disclosing her former would-be in-law's thoughts, so I decided it was best that we left the scene immediately rather than to wait for the Kings to discover Royce's remains. Even I did not want to hear their thoughts when the bodies were found. I'd had more than enough mental torment for one evening.
"Let's go," I muttered softly. Rosalie had been watching the buildings burn; she then turned to face me. Even without hearing her thoughts, the compunction written across her delicate features invaded my senses, the light from the flames intensifying the expression.
I'll never come back here again, will I?
I closed my eyes, fully feeling the internal anguish that she fought so desperately to hide. I shook my head slowly. "It's best if you don't. We'll be leaving for Appalachia soon, anyway."
She bowed her head and turned away from the place of her earlier carnage. "I'm ready."
I have nothing else to live for if I can never see my family again.
My cold heart began to ache as I watched images of her parents and brothers play through her mind. She had been able to lock those memories away for the past few days, focusing only on her retribution toward Royce and his friends. Now that she had accomplished that task, she lacked purpose in this new life. I completely sympathized with her sorrow – although Carlisle had his work and Esme her domestic hobbies, I had nothing; and now, neither did Rosalie.
I continued to hold her hand, as we stepped noiselessly into the murky depths of the forest, like unseen specters returning from their haunt. The few humans who knew of me would soon forget I had ever lived in Rochester. Rosalie would be remembered a little longer, her remaining family and friends bereft. But eventually, those who knew her would pass into the next world, and she would become as nameless and invisible as I. Sighing sadly, I let myself slip into the melancholic depths of our combined torment as we left the King family behind forever.
It was close to midnight when our peripatetic journey finally led us home. Fortunately, Carlisle and Esme had not yet returned from their trip to initiate the relocation process. This provided us some time to clean up and get our story straight.
"I'll let you change first," I said, glancing down at her tattered wedding gown. It was caked in dirt and blood, and singed in a few places. Even with her retribution complete, I automatically knew she would focus on her appearance, sooner rather than later.
Rosalie watched me study her dress, a growing look of worry on her face.
I look revolting, don't I?
I sighed and concentrated on keeping my tone even. I wasn't surprised by her thoughts, but I was slightly annoyed with her abrupt change of concern; her prior anxiety over her new, empty life was instantly gone – now she only cared about what she looked like.
"No, but you can't have that on when Carlisle and Esme return." Plus, I would think she'd want to burn that, as it's covered in Royce's blood.
She rolled her eyes and chastised me. "Don't lie, Edward. It's not very becoming."
I looked back up to her face, gaping openly. What had happened to the sad, broken girl I had comforted just an hour before?
I told you I can read you like a book – your meretricious-ness is quite apparent, and I know you think I look hideous. Excuse me while I rid myself of this last token of my humanity.
She turned and marched to Carlisle and Esme's room to change, since she had no room of her own. I sat on the couch, cradling my head in my hands as I tried to muddle through everything that had happened in the past few hours. I knew I should concentrate on our alibi, but it was terribly difficult when Rosalie's quickly changing mind begged for my full attention. Still, I had to focus on the task at hand – how much should we reveal to Carlisle? If he hadn't already heard of the fires, he would shortly, and would likely put two and two together. Did I admit to having full knowledge of her plan all along?
Are you still worrying about what to tell Carlisle?
My head shot up. Rosalie was standing just a few short feet in front of me, now wearing a more practical dress, yet looking just as breathtaking as before. She had washed the grime from her face and pulled back her blonde locks. It still amazed me that someone as striking as she could have such a need for continual affirmation of her physical appearance.
"Yes." I quickly tucked away that last thought, and instead answered her wordless question. Hopefully nothing on my face had given me away.
"He'll know, won't he?" I expected to see fear in her eyes, but rather, I saw only determination. Guilt and shame were apparently the last two emotions to which Rosalie would ever succumb when dealing with Royce's murder. Her thoughts confirmed that.
"Most likely. What did you do with the dress?"
She glanced back towards the bedroom. "I was going to burn it. I never want to see it again."
At least I got to wear my wedding dress once. I'll probably never have the occasion to wear one again…
Her thoughts were bouncing all over the place as she looked back at me.
You're worried about what Carlisle and Esme will think if they find out you were there. They'll suspect you knew all along.
I dismissed her keen observation for the moment and attempted to return the focus of our conversation to the dress. "Let's take care of that right away. They'll be back soon." I stood and moved towards the bedroom.
Edward, look at me.
Disregarding her, I retrieved the soiled dress and headed outside.
Edward, I know you're listening. Don't ignore me!
"What? What, Rosalie? Do you want me to answer everything you throw at me?" I snapped. The trauma of the evening had frayed my nerves, and I was in no mood to play games with her. The sooner we destroyed the dress, the sooner I could prepare my speech and subsequent answers for Carlisle. Then we could all move on and put Rochester and Royce behind us.
She pursed her lips together defiantly, hands on her hips. I waited for her anger to erupt again, focused at me this time. But instead, she stunned me by doing the complete opposite of what I expected. And, she gave me no mental warning, intentional or unintentional.
"I'll take the blame, Edward. I owe you that much. Let me explain to Carlisle – he'll believe me. He'll want to believe everything I tell him."
I shook my head in frustration. She was doing a better job of reading my mind than I was with hers, even with my ability. "Fine, whatever you want. Let's just get this over with."
She followed me out and away from the house, where I unceremoniously lit the dress on fire. Once it was nothing more than ashes, I buried them. With the evidence now destroyed, all that remained was facing Carlisle and Esme. I wasn't so sure that they would believe her as wholeheartedly as she thought, so I prepared myself for their disappointment. It wouldn't be the first time I had let them down – I was a far cry from the perfect son they idealized in their heads. It was just another fault I was forced to live with, day in and day out.
Rosalie kept her mind suspiciously guarded with ambiguously safe thoughts as we walked back to the house and awaited the other's return. That made me wonder if she was consciously aware that she could control what I was able to pick out of her head. Certainly, Carlisle and Esme could repress their thoughts, though they rarely had a need to. Rosalie, on the other hand, would most likely use that trick to her advantage once she figured it out. As much as I appreciated not hearing everything running through her tattered mind, it was in all of our best interest that she not edit right away, especially while we were still in Rochester. After all, her lack of censorship had ultimately saved her and the rest of us just hours ago. It was imperative that I see anything potentially threatening. I debated whether to outright ask her, but realized that would clue her in to the possibility of masking her thoughts from me. Yes, it would be best to keep that from her until we were well away from New York.
I had been exuding so much energy searching Rosalie's mind that I almost didn't hear Carlisle and Esme approaching the house. This time, I heard their footsteps before their thoughts. Not a good sign – unusually blank minds were a sure indicator that they knew about Royce's death and wanted to question me outright. As I had guessed, I was suspect immediately.
We waited for them on the front porch. Rosalie had heard their approach as well, and she had removed the veil from her mind, sending me a wave of assurance.
Let me explain first. They'll believe me.
I refrained from arguing since Carlisle and Esme were now exiting the woods and crossing the clearing to join us at the house.
"Rosalie, Edward. We heard there was a fire at the King residence." Carlisle's tone was guarded, just like his mind. "Were either of you involved?" He looked first at Rosalie, then at me. Esme stood quietly behind him in solidarity.
"Yes, Carlisle. I was." Rosalie looked somewhat remorseful, but more because of her disobedience against Carlisle's orders than the act itself. I saw this through her expression only – she did not share it mentally. If I could read it on her face, then Carlisle could, as well.
He sighed and bowed his head. "Rosalie, you know why we told you not to do this—vengeance has no place in our way of life. That aside, you have now placed us all in a very dangerous position."
"I understand, but please hear me out. I was careful to destroy the evidence. If the bodies are found, there will be no way to determine the cause of death - and after what he did to me…" she trailed off, her lower lip now trembling. I wanted to believe she was displaying emotions purely related to the viciousness of her fiancée's attack, but I suspected this was more of an act to appease Carlisle and Esme. Again, her mind was dangerously empty, so I couldn't tell what she was planning to say next.
"I'm ready to leave Rochester now. Please – I just want to put this all behind me. Please don't berate or judge me."
Carlisle studied her for a moment, and I heard the deliberation within his mind. Just like she had predicted, he desperately wanted to believe her; it made everything so much easier. But a part of him still wasn't quite able to let her off the hook for the murders. Thankfully, he didn't know how many people she had murdered – he was blissfully unaware of the guards' deaths.
Then he turned to face me.
Were you aware of her plan?
When put on the spot like that, I realized I couldn't lie to him. To do so would make me even more of a soulless monster then I already was. Carlisle and Esme had been so wonderful to me, trying to help me adjust to this unnatural life and pluck whatever goodness from it that we could unearth. I opened my mouth, preparing to admit my involvement, but my hesitant actions alerted Rosalie to my intentions. She instantly stifled me with both her mind and her words.
Don't admit that you knew!
"Carlisle, Edward didn't know until I returned just a short while ago. I was on my own all day, and I went to the King residence by myself. Please, don't blame him." She was terribly convincing; Esme bought her act immediately and moved forward to embrace her new daughter. I could hear her softly murmuring words of understanding into Rosalie's ear. Carlisle turned back to me.
"Clearly, she now knows of your ability." He was so observant of most things – how could he not hear the lie in her voice?
"Yes."
He nodded in comprehension. "Have you been to the King property to ensure there is no suspicion?"
Rosalie hadn't been specific with times, so I took a chance. "Yes, a little bit ago. They think the fires were accidental, set off by gunpowder in the barn. No one suspects foul play, but we should still leave for Appalachia as soon as possible." I hated to lie like this, but there was no turning back. I began to think of ways to speed up our move; the faster we left, the sooner Royce could be forgotten, at least by Carlisle and Esme.
He stood silently for a minute, first studying me, then Rosalie, who was still in Esme's arms.
Edward, I cannot condone her foolish behavior. I would expect that you, out of all of us, can understand why reciprocating evil for evil is wrong, even on the worst of humanity. You will, of course, keep me informed of any future developments.
I swallowed laboriously and nodded in agreement. This was almost worse than admitting involvement with the crimes. What would Carlisle think if he ever knew the truth? Would Rosalie be able to keep up the act? I absolutely hated this guilty feeling that festered uncomfortably, deep in the pit my stomach. Deception was something none of us had necessity for prior to Rosalie's joining the family. How had she so easily convinced me to lie again? I needed to talk to her, to figure all of this out, soon.
And alone.
AN: Looking for a great pre-Twilight, in-canon fanfic? Go check out my beta's story, "In My Power" - Carlisle's tale of how he created each of his family members. Her story is linked in my favorites. Don't forget to review!
