CHAPTER 12

-:- Fortune Favors the Brave -:-

2016 -:- Present Day

We exited the vehicle and were immediately surrounded by the little munchkins jumping up and down around us, buzzing with excitement. It's a good thing Jasper isn't here, although it would have been quite entertaining to watch him react to this kind of stimulation. Carlisle was definitely having a good time with all this, and I smirked a little, knowingly.

"Hey! What did I tell you? You, kids, leave the good Doctor and his son alone. Come on now, give them some breathing room," Charlie reprimanded the children, and I smiled again at his choice of words.

The kids quieted down immediately, reacting to Charlie's tone of authority, and a few muffled 'Aww's' escaped their mouths in disappointment.

"Go on now. Get. Go see Auntie Sue. I smelled some baking earlier, maybe she has something for you." That seemed to perk them up, and they ran off in the direction we had come from.

"Sorry about that. Seth gave then some of the chocolate you packed, and it seems they've acquired a taste for it. I'm kind of glad we don't have chocolate here on a regular basis, those kids were hyper all day." He chuckled a little and I saw an image of a lean, older, handsome woman with long black hair with silver streaks yelling at some kids with a baseball in one hand, and a piece of glass in the other. I silently exhaled trying not to laugh. I didn't want him to know I was privy to the image of what I had assumed to be Sue, his wife.

Charlie stretched his hand out in welcome to Carlisle and then to me. "Thank you so much for coming. Edward, I'm glad you decided to join your dad. I think Seth might be a little disappointed that Emmett's not here though." Charlie quickly glanced at my appearance, then at Carlisle's and questioned his own sanity a little bit. It must be the light, I could have sworn… His thoughts trailed off and he frowned, confused by our appearance, but didn't feel the need to question it further.

Neither Carlisle nor I had spoken yet, but we could both tell how nervous Charlie was as he continued to ramble.

"I'm afraid Seth had a few stories to share when we came back, that kid sure can talk, so news of your visit has set everyone abuzz. We don't get too many visitors and an actual Doctor, well, that's more than any of us could hope for. Of course, some of them remember you and were pleased to hear of your return." Well, most were….

I noticed Charlie's thoughts were fragmented; I was only seeing bits and pieces of his mind, something I was sure he was aware of and was hiding things purposely. I had managed to catch a glimpse of an angry Billy Black in his head, and Charlie immediately looked at me knowing I had seen it.

"Well, I suppose not everyone is happy about your return, I'm sure you're aware. There's always been bad blood there with the La Push folks. They're just stubborn, and like to hold grudges. They've promised to keep their distance today. I've never asked what happened between all of you, and I don't want to know. It's none of my business, well, unless it becomes my business." He raised his eyebrows at us and pursed his lips together. We could only nod our head in agreement, knowing this was definitely not the time to bring up the Quileutes with Charlie.

I think that was the most we had ever heard Charlie speak. We could see how much he had changed in the last decade. He was a true leader, that much was certain. He was excited to have us here, and his thoughts wavered on pride as well, as they should have.

"Charlie, this is…" Carlisle struggled for words, "nothing short of miraculous, what you've done here," he said, mirroring my thoughts from earlier. "We've never seen anything like it. We've been to countless Districts, all with problems and difficulties. But you've–you've created a real community here."

Charlie blushed deeply, and for the first time, I realized that this was a trait that Bella and her father had shared. I smiled genuinely at my revelation.

"It really is wonderful, Charlie." My voice almost seemed to crack from disuse.

He was embarrassed by our praise and took off his ball cap, rubbing his hair before placing the hat back on his head. "Well, let me show you around, then," he said, clearing his throat with his head down toward the tarmac.

He started off by explaining to us how they had managed initially in the bunker, which from the sounds of it was not very well. There were a good number of people who had listened and believed Charlie and Harry Clearwater, and there were a good number who didn't. Eventually, some of the ones who didn't, made their way to the bunker, but the damage was done, and they had been exposed to the radiation, but Charlie never turned anyone away. The harsh winter came, and they weren't prepared for it. They lost a large number of people within the first year. Charlie's face ghosted with pain as he talked about the first year. It weighed heavily on him, that much was apparent.

He continued to talk of their struggles in the first year and how hopeless and desperate everyone had become. People became restless, angry even, and they had been on the brink of several uprisings with people trying to take control of the food supplies. After Harry died the day of the bombs, Charlie put it in his head that he never wanted to be a leader, but was eventually forced into it unwillingly.

Life became unbearable for most, but when the first child to be conceived and delivered healthy since the bombs came into the world, hope had triumphed over despair and new life was bred into everyone. It was after her birth when life really began again for the people of Forks and La Push. They began to plan for the future and prepare for the long hard winters that were sure to come, life continued to grow.

Carlisle interrupted him as we walked in amongst the buildings. "Why stay here? Why not go back into town?"

Charlie thought for a moment about the question, we waited patiently for his answer taking in all the sites around us.

"Fear mostly, I suppose. We didn't know what to expect. No power, no heat, people found comfort in numbers, I guess. A few left, but eventually came back, or they gave up, and just stopped living."

We continued our tour along the makeshift streets in between the small, colorful dwellings. Charlie began to point out certain structures and explained their way of life here. We walked past a small building that served as a church, and beside it another small structure Charlie explained was, surprisingly, a synagogue. He mentioned they had an area for laundry, stables, an auto shop, and even a general store. Everything was shared; there was no monetary value for anything, but they used a barter system, trading items and labor fairly. There was a zero tolerance policy, and it was policed by a man named Sam Uley.

"We have generators and electricity, but we reserve it for special occasions, and where it's needed, like at the clinic. We even have plumbing of sorts. Strictly for washing up of course. The water is carried away down from the main area from each house." He pointed to any area off in the distance which almost looked like 'holding ponds' for sewage. "The system can't handle solids, if you know what I mean, but we have general area outhouses for that. It's not the most ideal situation and many people gripe about missing comforts, but it's a good life if not a simple one," Charlie explained, casually.

This was such a huge contrast to some of the Districts. They were getting better, but initially there was no plumbing whatsoever, and people just discarded waste and refuge wherever they could, which always resulted in the most horrific smell that none of us could ever get used to. But here, the air was relatively clean. There were the typical smells you would expect when any large number of people lived this closely to one another, but for the most part, it was very tolerable even for our heightened senses.

We were standing outside of a relatively large building. If I didn't already know it was a school from all the distracted minds inside, I probably could have guessed from the clichéd bright red color it was painted, and I said as much to Charlie.

"Want to take a look inside? They won't mind." He opened the door and told us to go ahead.

I walked through the door and stole a peek around the corner. The three of us stood quietly at the back of the room listening and observing while a young woman, with her back to us, wrote on the chalkboard. The room was filled with boys and girls under the age of sixteen, all of them eager in their minds, but distracted nonetheless.

I recognized the first stanza of the poem she was writing out on the board. It was a favorite of mine and fairly resonant to the time. The woman hesitated for a second on one of the lines. She had no book to go by, strictly relying on memory and was silently cursing herself for forgetting the words. Amused by her choice of colorful words, I felt compelled to help her out. Not because the children were getting restless, and a few were snickering at her expense, but because her inner voice seemed vaguely familiar to me.

"With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom," I offered her, curious to find out who she was.

Her hand stilled on the chalkboard as did her breath. Every one of the children snapped their heads around following my voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," I apologized, a little embarrassed at the attention.

The woman slowly turned around, and I felt the corners of my mouth turn up in amusement as I recognized the woman's face. Angela Weber, a beautiful, older and very pregnant Angela Weber, cracked an enormous grin, and I couldn't help but smile in return. Angela had become a teacher, and it suited her tremendously. I looked around the room at the vibrant drawings and paintings up on the walls and the bright faces looking back at me. Once again, for the second time today, Carlisle's thoughts turned to Rosalie, while mine remembered another time, and another school…

2006 -:- Past Memories

THE MAP—I STOOD in front of the concrete wall, unable to tear my eyes away. So much red…so much destruction. Esme had spent the last hour going over what she had done with all the information she had received over the past weeks.

She had tried her best to keep busy in the first week. With the map and the radio, and between the animals and the garden, her fears were kept at bay. But into the second week, she still hadn't heard from any of the others, and her fear continued to grow. She maintained the animals, kept them fed and milked the goats, discarding the precious milk as well as the eggs from the chickens. She was devastated to have to waste so much food when she knew others were probably in desperate need, but she was too terrified to venture outside.

I listened intently as she recounted her days to me, telling me she tried to leave several times, but day after day, she came up with excuse after excuse. 'One more day, Edward will wake up. One more day and they will be back. If I leave, they'll come back and I'll miss them. If I leave, what if I don't come back? Who'll care for the animals … for Edward?'

The days wore on, and before long, she was sedentary, rooted by her terror. So instead of opening the door, she tended to the animals and her garden, and me, while sinking further and further into despair.

Doing her best with what little information was passed through the radio, she had color-coded the map with her findings. Right after the attacks the radio was abundant with chatter. People were desperately asking for help and news of other parts of the country. As the weeks went by, the chatter slowly dissipated to almost non-existent. She convinced herself they were tired of hearing of all the death and destruction like she was, or they were conserving their dying batteries. From the looks of the map, I was fairly certain the effects of the radiation had started to set in, and it wasn't just the batteries that were dying or dead.

Red was just as I thought, a direct hit, and seemed to be concentrated around the larger cities of North America, particularly New York, Los Angeles, Washington D.C., and other parts of Mexico and Canada. More red was focused around notable power stations, thermal, hydro and of course nuclear. What was shocking to me though was the random red that covered the entire Eastern Seaboard, almost as if it was dripping with blood. There was no way that many bombs had been dropped, and Esme confirmed my speculations.

They weren't direct hits, but rather nuclear storage facilities. She wasn't certain if her dots were accurate, but she was fairly sure they would have suffered the same fate as Illinois. The failing electrical grids, caused by the strategically placed bombs, resulted in a rolling blackout. Without electricity, the cooling pools filled with spent fuel had catastrophic meltdowns. These nuclear disasters that occurred were far more devastating than any of the bombs that were initially dropped, and the Atlantic Seaboard was riddled with red.

Beyond the red, was a sea of yellow—areas directly affected by the nuclear radiation. This extended from Maine down to Florida to Texas up to North Dakota, and everywhere in between. Unless people had found proper nuclear fallout shelters, their survival was highly unlikely.

The blue seemed to focus on the western states, such as Utah, Wyoming and Idaho. States free of nuclear reactors. Esme had assumed that as long as the population managed to find adequate shelter, they could avoid the radiation for the most part and had a greater chance of survival.

That left the grey, which had been colored from Arizona up to Washington, and what she considered to be 'unknown.' There had been no reports other than those after the initial bombs that had been dropped on the Hoover Dam and Los Angeles. My eyes slowly traced a trail from the bottom of the map, along the coast and settled just below a red dot that was formally Vancouver. Everything else was gray, there was no word as to how Washington fared. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, hoping that Charlie had listened to us.

I felt a tender touch on my shoulder as Esme joined me, standing alongside me in front of all the devastation and death. The world as we knew it, no longer existed—our family could possibly have joined the world's fate. The two of us faced some very big decisions, and the first step for me was convincing Esme to open that large metal door that had kept her caged in dread and possibly denial for the last four weeks.

Looking into her eyes, I could see in the dim light they were rimmed with black, and I finally broke the silence. "You need to eat."

"You're one to talk. It's been over four weeks for you." She laughed at my admonishment.

"Alright then, let's see if we can stomach whatever it is Carlisle has us housing back there, and then we'll tackle that door," I said flippantly, trying to make light of the prospect of going outside.

I felt her freeze for a moment and her thoughts became erratic and her feet were rooted to the ground. I protectively put my arm around her forcing her to the doorway, and casually discussed the possible menu.

"Chickens? Really? And rabbits? Well, that's hardly appetizing, is it? We'll need to open that door because you know how I feel about domestic animals, they all taste like chicken."

She was extremely quiet as we went about our business, getting our fill of the smaller animals as much as they could provide us. I decided it was a good as time as any to discuss Carlisle and where he could possibly be.

"By looking at the map of Illinois, I take it … it was hit pretty hard," I stated the obvious. She just nodded her head, not looking at me as she milked the goats that were ready to burst from the lack of our attention.

"Then I would bet he's at one of the hospitals. You know he wouldn't be able to resist helping where he could. If the radiation doesn't affect us, then his help would be instrumental, especially when the other doctors started getting sick," I finished quietly.

"But why would he leave us with no word, leave me? I just can't fathom what would keep him from checking in," she implored desperately, placing a shaking hand over her mouth.

"Well, we're going to find out, and we'll open that door and search every part of what's left of the city. That's the only thing we have to go on right now. Let's find him, and then we'll worry about the others. We at least have a starting point for Carlisle. Okay?" I watched her continue to milk the goat, and the situation we were in seemed so absurd that I actually laughed a little and forgot the past five weeks and all that it encompassed.

"What?" she snapped back at me.

"You're milking a goat, Esme. Doesn't that seem a little unreal?" I asked incredulously.

She stopped for a second, leaning away from the goat and huffed emphatically, forcing the hair away from her forehead. It really was comical to watch: 'my mother,' who was always so well put together, sitting on a stool, leaning over a metal pail while a goat bleated its annoyance at her.

I'll tell you one thing, he better be injured, or I'll make damn sure that he is when I see him. She was just as irritated as the disgruntled goat she continued to milk.

.

WE FINISHED UP WHAT we needed to do and filled our packs with water and food and as many medical supplies that we thought would be useful. I drafted a note to the others, letting them know where we had gone, on the off chance they came back while we were out. Esme insisted we each take a radio in case of an emergency and we were separated. The three missing radios were the ones Rose, Alice and Emmett had taken, which meant Jasper and Carlisle had left without one, but it didn't really matter at this point, the batteries would have died out by now.

I quickly glanced around the room one last time, wondering for a brief moment if we would be back. Deciding it was now or never, I grasped the metal wheel giving it a tug to the left and heard the locking mechanism release. Turning my head, I searched out Esme, who was standing a few feet from me with an anxious look on her face.

"Ready?" I asked her, but all she could do was bite her lip in response. Reaching my hand out to her, she interlocked her fingers with mine, and I said reassuringly, "I'll never leave your side."

The first thing that assaulted us as the door swung open was the pungent stench of rot and burning rubber. We were still underground, but our heightened senses amplified everything, and I could only imagine what it would smell like on the surface. I pulled out extra cloths from my pack and handed a piece to Esme, telling her to wrap it around her nose and mouth, while I did the same. We didn't need to breathe, but it would help when we needed to talk to each other.

We made our way to the surface, blindly feeling along the darkened tunnel. I had no memory of this place, so I was relying on Esme to guide me to the surface. We knew it would be dark outside; we had timed it so it would be twilight to avoid the possibility of sunlight. Esme directed me to a stairwell that pointed up, and I led the way slowly and cautiously, listening for any sounds above. The burning smell was more concentrated the closer we got, and the growing heat caused me to believe that fires were still burning after all this time.

At the top of the stairs, I paused in front of the door for a moment, turning to study Esme. Her thoughts had taken a different direction from moments ago. She was firm in her resolve, and the brave, courageous Esme was back. She had abandoned her fears, and the only thing she was thinking about as we ascended were all the lives that had been lost. She was tired of cowering behind this door. My heart actually felt like it swelled a little, knowing that she was here with me, that I was here for her, and we were going through this together.

I'm okay, she confirmed and I smiled, giving her the encouragement she needed.

Putting my hands against the door, I realized it was giving off some heat. "I think there is or was a fire nearby. Do you know what kind of structure was on top of the bunker?"

"Nothing really. We're under an overpass from the El Train, not much around us. There shouldn't be anything to burn, it's fairly remote."

I pushed my shoulder against the door, and it wouldn't budge. Esme moved closer and between the two of us we managed to bend the metal door at the top, enough to be able to see what was blocking us from getting out. It was a mess of twisted steel and concrete obstructing our way.

"I'm going to have to pull the door in toward us. There's too much to get through," I explained, gently moving her to the side. And with one wrenching pull, the door came away from its hinges with a screeching cry that filled the night air. We stood still, listening for any indication someone had heard us. But it was eerily silent, almost like a winter's night when the snow falls and everything is insulated by the large flakes.

Climbing up through the steel girder that had fallen in front of the door, I turned to help Esme, reaching down and pulling her up in one swift movement. We stood atop of the beam, questioning everything we had planned these past few hours. There was nothing left, and the idea of trying to find any of them in this was extremely daunting. The sky was completely void of light; no stars or moon or city lights. The only glow was coming from the smoldering fires scattered across what was left of the city. The bitter stench was much more concentrated and the decay more potent. We both coughed and retched, not just from the smell but from the ash as well. It was everywhere, falling, floating in the sky, and a thick layer covered every inch of every surface. The city had burned to ash, or better yet, the world had burned to ash. It was nothing you could ever imagine in your wildest dreams, and Esme's resolve started to wane.

How is it still burning? It's been weeks. It's not possible. Esme's disbelief rang out in my mind.

"It's possible. If the whole city burned, new fires would spread over time, especially with no one to put them out. All of this," I pointed to the crumbled overpass that had blocked the entrance to the bunker, "must have happened after they left."

"I'm not sure if that's supposed to be comforting," she said, picking up a handful of ash in her hands and rubbing it between her fingers. "That would imply that most of the destruction happened while they were out here, Edward."

"Okay," I said, not wanting to give in to her thinking. "We stick to the original plan. You said we were South Side, so we just have to head north, closer to downtown, and work our way outward, hitting up the areas we know had hospitals. Looking at all this … this…" I stumbled to find the right word, but came up empty. "I'm sure that's where Carlisle is." He has to be, I finished silently.

.

WE HAD BEEN WALKING for over an hour, trying to wade through the ash and debris, stopping every so often to listen for any signs of life. So far, we had not come across anything. The area of the city we were in was pretty much leveled and abandoned. It had been slow going even with our ability to leap over all kinds of obstructions, as there were no streets or visible pathways, so it was tough to gauge which way we were headed. As we continued to walk, we noticed the fires were dying out and there was some semblance of buildings. The area we were walking into was not as heavily hit, that much we could tell. Off in the distance to my left, I thought I recognized the sound of twisting metal, similar to what Esme and I had just experienced with the door to the bunker. I grasped her hand, a silent gesture for her to stop.

What is it? she asked, alarmed.

I shook my head in return, turning it to the left hoping to hear the sound again. We waited for a few minutes, both holding our breath anxiously, and then it came again. It was unmistakable, twisting, screeching metal on metal. I motioned to her silently that we should head in the direction of the sound and check it out. We followed as best we could, stopping every so often to try and hone in on the direction it was coming from.

As we got closer, I started to hear the incoherent, hysterical ramblings of someone on the brink of despair. My eyes widened in surprise as I realized whose thoughts they were. Esme stopped suddenly, picking up on my distress, and rubbed my arm waiting for me to explain. But this was not something I was prepared to share in words with her. Listening intently, I couldn't help the pain that etched across my face.

Dogs…must save them…never stood a chance. Save them…bury them…rest…so tiny…alone…all alone…the smell…Oh God, the smell. It was the same thing over and over again, and the images along with her words caused me to cry out with grief for her. Tiny shoes, backpacks, books, tiny hands and then the horror of packs of dogs ripping apart decomposing flesh.

"Edward, you're scaring me. What is it?" Esme begged.

"It's Rosalie," I said, regretfully pointing up ahead to where the sounds were coming from. From what I could tell from the images in her mind, she had been moving debris from a toppled building, digging her way through the rubble and lying to herself that she would hopefully find survivors.

Esme sobbed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived when she looked into my sad eyes. She took off running in Rosalie's direction without a second glance back at me. Her thoughts were full of questions and concerns as she blindly ran toward the noise.

"Esme, wait!" I called out, running after her hoping to catch her before she reached her. I didn't want her to see Rosalie this way. Esme had been through enough, but I should have known better than to try and keep a mother from her child.

The night sky was completely dark, and we were relying on our keen eyesight to guide us over what we assumed had been streets. It seemed to take forever, and Esme's thoughts were frantic about reaching Rosalie. I took her hand in mine, not to stop her, but to reassure her that we would get there and that I was with her.

The sounds from earlier had stopped, and Rosalie's thoughts became quiet, but I knew we were close. I yelled out to her, knowing she would hear us, and Esme followed my lead.

"I need to put them to rest," I heard her quiet, broken voice break through the silence of the night.

Immediately, we took off in the direction it was coming from. Jumping up on what I thought must have been a bus, I could see her crumpled form in the darkness. She was sitting against a toppled brick wall, her head was down, and her arms covered herself as if she was trying to hold herself together.

They're all dead. Everyone's dead…and the dogs… she started to rock herself back and forth, and a low, sorrowful sound emitted from her chest.

Esme gasped, jumping down and ran to her, wrapping her up in her arms, and soothing her with sounds and murmurs of love. I watched from my perch up above, knowing I should go to them, but I couldn't, my legs wouldn't move. I tried to take a deep breath, but the air was suffocating, and the pain in my chest felt as if it was going to rip me in two. Bending down, I wrapped my arms around my knees and watched Esme and Rosalie, trying to get my head around the scene in front of me.

Rosalie was hardly recognizable. Her golden hair was black with soot, as was her skin, and her clothes were shredded to pieces and barely hanging on. But her face was the most shocking and unfamiliar to me. I was so used to the hard-nosed, statuesque, beautiful Rosalie, whose expression was rarely anything but sour. But this woman in front of me was anything but that. She was broken and shaken and something else I never thought I would see … fragile.

A million questions tumbled around in my head, as did Esme's, and from Rosalie's thoughts, she was just starting to comprehend that Esme was real and holding her in her arms.

"Esme?" she choked out, "is it really you?" She sobbed a sigh of relief grasping tightly to Esme's neck. "You'll help me, won't you?" she asked, and Esme looked to me in confusion, still not aware of what Rosalie had been doing.

Edward, what does she mean? Help her with what?

This was my cue, my legs finally connected with my brain, and I managed to jump down and slowly walk toward them, cautiously, not wanting to overwhelm Rosalie.

"Rosalie, we'll help you. We promise," I said, bending down to hold her hand.

"E-Edward?" she asked in disbelief, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. "Is Emmett with you?" she said in a childlike voice.

"No, honey, we were hoping you could tell us where he is," Esme answered.

"He told me to go back, to go to the bunker, and tell you what happened. He went after Jasper, with Alice. He didn't want you to be left alone. I was on my way … but…" she trailed off and the same distant, fragile look from before crossed her face again.

"But what, honey? What?" Esme tried to coax Rosalie.

I knew she wouldn't be able to tell Esme in her own words the reason why she never made it back to the bunker, so I explained as best I could from what I had managed to gather from her thoughts. Rosalie had been on her way back to the bunker while Alice and Emmett continued tracking Jasper. Emmett wanted Rosalie to go back and be with Esme since they had no way of contacting her since the radios had died.

She had come across a school that had collapsed under all the aftermath of the explosions. Knowing schools were being used as shelters, she ventured a little closer and could hear people trapped inside, families with children.

"She dug them out, Esme," I said reverently, "but none survived." I shook my head slightly, watching Rosalie's defeated form, huddled and shaking in Esme's arms. The images of her dragging the tiny, broken bodies of children out from underneath the rubble would haunt us both for eternity. She had laid them out, hoping to find one person still breathing, but her efforts were futile. She spent the remainder of the day sitting alongside the dead, mourning them until nightfall.

"Wild dogs came…" I spoke softly, knowing Esme would understand. All she could do was soothe Rosalie's dry sobs with hushed words. Starving wolves and abandoned dogs from the countryside were scavenging their way across the city in search of food, and the bodies were easy pickings for the wild pack. She fought them off, killing them before they had a chance to reach the bodies, but more came, until eventually she worked through the night, burying each of the bodies, laying them to rest.

We sat in silence for some time, allowing Rosalie to grieve in the comfort of our arms. This woman, my sister, was one of the strongest people I had ever known, and I had taken her enormous heart for granted all these years. I had refused to see the compassion buried deep within her tenacity, and now I mourned alongside her. For all that I had lost, that she had lost, for what we all had lost, we grieved together.

"They're just babies. They shouldn't have to suffer in death too," she whispered, her voice was hollow, void of any emotion.

I sighed deeply, knowing it was going to be a challenge getting her to come back with us to the bunker. She had spent the last few weeks roaming the city looking for schools and buildings, burying the dead.

"I know, Rose, we'll try," I said, lifting her chin so she would know I was speaking the truth. "But you can't save them all."

She looked so delicate, so sad, and I ached for the old Rosalie. The one who would have stood up, brushed herself off, all the while telling me what an ass I was for making the family suffer. She was gone, and I never thought I would say this, but I needed her. So until she could make her way back to us, it was up to me to fill her shoes. I lifted her up, cradling her in my arms.

"We're going to take you back to the bunker and get you cleaned up." She started to protest, but I stopped her short. "Don't argue, you need a change of clothes, and you need to feed, and you need a shower." I tried to joke with her, but it fell flat, and Esme looked at me with eyebrows raised.

Edward…Esme started to reprimand me, but my words seemed to comfort Rosalie, and she wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

.

ESME HAD SPENT THE past hour washing and cleaning Rosalie, and all that time, she still had not spoken another word. Esme sat on the purple couch while Rosalie was in front on the white carpet, sitting between her legs. She was running a brush through Rosalie's freshly shampooed hair, the blonde catching bits of light from the single bulb in the middle of the room. She stared straight ahead at nothing in particular while Esme's hand continued to pull through the long strands of her golden hair. I watched their routine, almost hypnotized by the motion, but Rosalie's voice brought me back to the surface.

"Where's Carlisle?" she asked, finally breaking her silence.

"We don't know," I said, "it's been weeks since Esme's heard anything."

My declaration seemed to bring Rosalie back to life a little, and she questioned my words.

"That's not possible," she said shaking her head back and forth, causing Esme to stop in mid-stroke. "We saw him. We met up with him at one of the hospitals. He told Emmett to send me back and said he would be right behind me." She looked at me confused and concerned that Carlisle never made it back.

Rosalie gave me a general idea of where they had found Carlisle and I was determined to go and find him. It was exactly what we had suspected. He had been working at a hospital lending his expertise and help anywhere it was needed. It was a difficult task trying to convince Esme that I was going to have to leave her and Rosalie, but in the end, she knew it was the only way. Rosalie was not ready to go outside again, and she couldn't be left alone. She made me make another promise to her though, to return and to check in on the radio every hour on the hour. I conceded to her stipulations and set off alone, to find the one person who could put this family back together.