Chapter Two: Meeting

DISCLAIMER: I looked in the mirror this morning, hopeful, but alas, I am still not Stephanie Meyer nor do I own the Twilight saga.

CARLISLE POV Warsaw, Poland

A FEW DAYS LATER

I cannot stop thinking about her. Her beautiful caramel hair, her gorgeous hazel eyes… and that little girl. The one who must be her daughter. She seems a bit young to have a child, but you never know. Who am I to think that I could have her, a girl I have never even met?

"Heil, Hitler!" An officer approaches me, snapping me out of my reverie.

"What? Oh. Heil, Hitler."

"There is a riot on the Avenue. Go help clean it up. Isolation begins tonight." The Avenue is our name for the long street where most of the Jewish population lives in Warsaw. As I approach the riot, I see the problem. A drunken Jewish man has punched a German soldier. The Jew is still trying to attack him, but someone is holding him back.

Her.

At first I think she is his wife, and then I hear what she is saying.

"Abba, no! Don't! Calm! Abba!" Abba is the Hebrew word for father. I walk towards my fellow soldier, and try not to gasp at her beauty. She is even more astounding outside and in person.

"Abba, come inside. Come in-…"

ESME POV

I see him and I hear my voice trail off. My mind is in shock. He is too handsome to comprehend. It is like he came from heaven. I just stare at him for the longest time. What I would give to spend one night alone with him.

They are clearing the crowd away, and as we pass each other he whispers, "Carlisle."

Carlisle. It is so perfect. Carlisle.

We lock eyes, and I mouth my name. "Esme."

CARLISLE POV

"Esme."

Her mouth forms the word and my mind clicks in amazement. Esme. Emerald. Named after a precious gem as beautiful as she. I am taken aback by the perfection of her name.

I lift my head only to see the door swinging closed. Esme.

"Esme," I breathe, and it feels so wonderful on my lips.

"Esme."

ESME POV

I hear him whisper my name, and my heart flutters. It sounds so amazing coming from him. No one can say it like him. How can a sixteen-year-old girl be so infatuated with her mortal enemy?

"Esme! Come lean!" My father yells, his voice unnaturally harsh. I follow his voice into our kitchen, and understand why his tone is so rough. He is here.

Charles Evenson.

A/N: Dun dun dun… so now Carlisle and Esme have met. What will happen next? And what's up with Charles Evenson? Review and find out!