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Chapter17

(Esme)

The lines drew themselves like poetry. The white against the blue of the paper got more and more intricate as time wore on. Images of stained-glass windows and wooden beams below high ceilings carved themselves through the barriers of my imagination. An extra story drew onto the cabin and I leaned back to make sure the measurements were right for the sunroom I had attached to the deck. I labeled all the bedrooms and bathroom before editing a new symbol for a fireplace on my key at the bottom of the page.

I took a break from the rest of my sketches to construct a cabin for Seth. It was horrible, knowing that he was living in some cave out in the woods. I had never seen it myself. Carlisle didn't like the idea of me going out to visit him. He said that it was something I truly didn't need to see, that my heart wouldn't be able to take it. He was right, of course, he always was. In a way, I didn't want to have to see Seth that way; it was just a horrible feeling, knowing that there wasn't anything I could do. So, building him this cabin was my way of contributing. It would break my heart for him to think that I wasn't thinking of him.

Everybody was doing one thing or another to help Seth. Carlisle had his enkephalin injections, which he took a leave from the hospital for and worked on day and night. Alice sat in the backyard for hours upon hours by herself, eyes closed in concentration, trying to see his future. She constantly stressed about the barrier and I could tell she was determined, more than anything, to get past it. Of course, with time, I was more than confident that she would. Jasper sat beside her, trying to send positive waves in his direction. He was as adamant as Alice. I smiled, thinking about how they were probably sitting back there right now.

I got up to check, walking down to the living room to look out the window. I picked up a t-shirt thrown on couch all the way; sprinting down to the washing machine to throw it in with the load I just started not more than 20 minutes ago. I went back to the living room and cleaned up a little bit more before finally going to the window.

Alice and Jasper lay, twined to one another in the grass, both laughing hysterically; their chuckles brought them closer together. When the laughter died down the kissing started; my cue to avert my eyes. I turned with a smile, adoring their bliss.

I sat back to my blueprint; sketching the layout for the garden in the backyard. Beethoven played lightly in the background, inspiring the mural of a black and white grand piano that would someday be plastered on the walls of Seth's new living room.

Bella and Renesmee had been over at Emily's house everyday this week, preparing mound after endless mound of food for Seth. Bella said that it could help control his urge to kill for food at night, and hopefully, that would make a difference with his guilt for the things he does when the sun is down, when his actions are controlled by the moon. When they made their quota for the day, they would send it off with Sam or Emmet, the other members of the pack would help when the load got to be too much. And sometimes, when there was too much food for them to carry, Rose would help haul the bags up the mountain to Seth.

Rose was so tough, so strong, quite honestly, stronger than some of her brothers or sisters, she could act like she didn't care for as long as she had too, but when things got real, she was always there. I thought back to Bella's pregnancy, how she was so supportive, the only one so supportive of Bella's decision. She guarded her with her life, I knew she did. If it wasn't for Rose, I really don't believe Renesmee would be in this world. Rosalie, my beautiful Rose, she was the strongest out of all of us during that time, during the time when we all couldn't seem to even think, she thought for us.

But no matter how stable I believed her to be, I knew my Rosalie, and I knew that Seth's situation was eating her up inside.

She would never admit it, but I knew she had carried a little bit of the blame on her shoulders. She felt that she led us to the wolves; that she had allowed herself to be tricked. I tried to console her in a way; it was difficult since she wouldn't talk about it. She was it beyond suggestion, her mind was made up.

Edward and the rest of the pack went out twice a day, collecting shedded hairs along Seth's paths. This one job was a full time one. As time wore on, the hairs grew longer and longer, thicker and thicker, more and more potent. Edward constantly worried about the Volturi's trackers, something the rest of us failed to think of. Edward said that Seth was still there enemy, and needed to take the nessacary precautions for protection. Seth didn't care enough to shave, or burn the hair. Seth wanted the Volturi to find him, he didn't care. The thought broke my heart. Edward couldn't get close enough to shave Seth, but he made up for it by making sure Seth's scent wasn't anywhere it didn't need to be.

I think his main concern was Renesmee.

He didn't want the Volturi to even remember her existence. Nothing was safe when it came to them. If they came back here, searching for Seth, but accidentally stumbled upon Nessie, they would want to take her.

And we would start a war.

Our world as we know it would come to an abrupt stop.

So we all helped picking up after Seth. If we caught his scent, which was very hard to miss, we wouldn't stop until we got rid of it.

I remembered the first time I followed a scent, the stench of wet bark on a rotten tree led me 20 miles out of Forks.

What I came too has haunted me since I saw it. I find myself imagining the rotting carcasses every time I close my eyes, or every time I run into the woods.

***

The smell got stronger and stronger as I ran up the mountain that day, while I ran I picked up all the shedded hairs I could find with lightning speed. I stuffed them in the bag I carried and continued to run deeper into the tress. Absently minded, I bent to pick up a hair, and touched it instead.

In a tangle of blood, smothered with gore, were the rotting bodies of two teenage boys. Their eyes were open, wide with terror. Their hair was matted to their faces, dried with the red cement of death. They couldn't have been older than 18 or 19. Their open gashes showed the way their muscle was ripped from their insides, their flesh ripped from their bodies every where you looked. I was dry heaving at the stench, which was laced with Seth's cologne; it forced itself into my nose and clouded my brain. Every inch of the boys was torn, shredded, distorted. I turned away and began digging into the mossen soil. I flung it to the side in a panic, dry sobs taking over my even breath. I plucked the potent hairs from the ground as I worked, stuffing them into the brimming bag beside me.

Suddenly I felt arms pull me from the hole I had been working on so fervently. Carlisle cradled my shaking body to his while I cried, out of panic or sympathy, I wasn't sure. Edward, Jasper, and Emmet continued with the hole while Carlisle led me away, a cool hand covering my eyes, another pinching the end of my nose.

I haven't followed another one of Seth's trails since.

***

My husband's arms encircled me, bringing me back to the present. I inhaled his scent deeply, dizzied by the way it purified my insides. The trail was all but forgotten.

"I've missed you today." His arm lips kissed my temple while he massaged the back of my neck, working his way down my shoulders. "Sorry for being so busy."

My eyes were still closed, savoring the protection of his fingers on my skin. "I understand."

He swirled me around in my chair and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "You always do."

He stole a glance at my blueprint, chuckling.

"I thought you said you were going to keep it simple?"

I sighed. "It started out that way."

"It always does."

I stood and slipped my arms around his neck, savoring his presence.

"How is everything going with the injections?"

"It's frustrating. I've got a lot of reading to do tonight, and hopefully I can figure out all the kinks. It might put me back awhile though." He exhaled, his warm breathe warming the back of my neck while my head rested on his shoulder. "I just want this all to be over and done with. It's caused everybody enough pain. If I could just go back…"

"Hey," I whispered, lifting my head to look him in the eye. "What did we talk about. Don't ever go there, no regrets, remember?"

"I hate those dogs for causing all of this. I hate seeing the people I love in this much pain. I swear, angel. The day I saw you on that trail was one of the worst days I've had in a long time. This needs to be over. If I regret anything, it was going to see those wolves."

I held his head between my hands, his eyes were closed. This was Carlisle, being vulnerable. This was my husband, allowing me to see into his own soul. I took these moments seriously, knowing they didn't come along too often. Carlisle was always so sure of everything, never needed guidance or advice. When he allowed himself to be critiqued, I did it with the upmost sincerity.

"In a way, this has brought us all together. I have never seen the kids pull together like this since Bella was pregnant."

He chuckled.

"Why are we all so reunited when chaos comes along? Why can't we be united all the time? The second the problem goes away, the unison does. I don't get it."

"What matters is that we do come together when chaos comes. We always have, always will. We are a family because of it."

When he kissed me he did it with appreciation, and I kissed him back with compassion. We ended up on the couch of his study. I lay, cuddled to him while we talked the entire thing out.

He sat and told me about his serum, the steps he was taking to perfect the injections. He told me his fear of the side effects, he showed me his determination. He poured through book after book with me by his side that night. I soaked in every word out of his mouth, every expression to greet the holy contours of his face.

As time wore on, my confidence in my husband grew.

By the end of that night, I believed it was only a matter of time before this was all just a distant memory.

***

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