Disclaimer: Do I own Twilight? *looks out window for screaming fans* No. Dang it.
Chapter Three: HuntingCarlisle:
That night, Edward and I went hunting again. I knew he felt bad about the abrupt farewell of the week before, but I couldn't help reliving it in my head as we ran in silence. I had been the one to decide for him, in the end; I had been the one to send him away. Did it hurt him, I wondered, to see my doubts about him? Did my panic and distrust make him feel bad or unworthy?
"No," Edward answered my silent questions. "That was what I needed. I might so easily have betrayed that trust, if you'd told me to stay." You wouldn't have, I replied silently, but I knew the risk was there. But the risk was always there.
"I'm sorry you're suffering, Edward," I replied, "but you should do what you can to keep the Swan child alive. Even if it means leaving us again."
"I know, I know," Edward replied quickly, sounding a little irritated. I was not surprised. He had probably heard this speech a million times from the rest of us today.
"Why did you come back?" I asked, not meaning to sound rude but honestly curious. "You know how happy I am to have you here, but if this is too difficult…"
"I didn't like feeling like a coward," Edward replied, though he knew that wasn't the answer I wanted. We slowed right down, barely jogging through the dark night.
"Better that than putting her in danger. She'll be gone in a year or two." You know that.
"You're right, I know that," Edward replied, but his tone informed me he was thinking about something…or someone…else. I stopped and turned, and Edward stopped too. His face was a mixture of emotions I could not make out: he was thinking about Charlie's daughter; the Swan girl.
But you're not going to run, are you? I pressed silently. This was a form of conversation we had grown used to in our many years together; one we used less and less as the family and the number of humans around us grew. He hung his head. Is it pride, Edward? I inquired, exposing the concern I had hidden earlier. There's no shame in-
"No," Edward interrupted. "It isn't pride that keeps me here. Not now."
Nowhere to go? I wondered. I had known the feeling once, long ago: wandering aimlessly, finding no interest in anything. Then I had found none other than Edward and Elizabeth Anthony Masen.
"No, that wouldn't stop me if I could make myself leave." Would leaving the family be his problem? It was the only tie I could think of. There was nothing significant about this place, really – though the hospital workers were surprisingly ignorant of their sense of danger around me, which I found interesting but comforting.
"We will come with you, of course, if that's what you need," I offered. "You only have to ask. You've moved on without complaint for the rest of them. They won't begrudge you this."
He raised an eyebrow quizzically, and I had to laugh.
"Yes, Rosalie might, but she owes you," I said. The humour drained from my voice as I again recalled Rosalie storming into the house after her vengeance-fuelled killing spree with nothing more than a belt in her hands. When I emerged from my study and started at her golden eyes, she flung the belt at me and hissed that she hadn't spilt a drop. The men Rosalie murdered had done her a terrible wrong: I could understand her desire for revenge, if not appreciate or rejoice in it. Bella Swan was different, though. An innocent girl: ultimate cruelty. "Anyway, it's much better for us to leave now, no harm done, than for us to leave later, after a life has been ended." Edward flinched.
"Yes," he agreed hoarsely.
But you're not leaving? Didn't he know what this could mean? Of course he did.
"I should," he admitted.
"What holds you here, Edward?" Was there something I had missed in recalling his ties to this place? "I'm failing to see…"
"I don't know if I can explain," Edward said, his face contorted slightly, uncomfortable.
No, I do not see…but I will respect your privacy, if you prefer. I offered.
"Thank you," he said, the uncomfortable expression having only slightly improved. "It's generous of you, seeing as how I give privacy to no one." Apparently Edward's guilty conscience had also survived his time away, but I didn't want to dwell on the morbid aspects of our conversation any longer.
We all have our quirks, I brushed off his guilt, as he so often did mine. Suddenly, I became aware of the scent of a herd of deer up ahead. Shall we? I invited. Deer was not a particularly enthralling scent, and with the apparently delicious scent of the Swan girl's blood still under his nose, I doubted it would excite Edward much, but it was better than nothing.
"Let's," Edward said. We both crouched and crept silently forward, transforming immediately into the predators we were.
We returned home early the next morning to a scene from a painting; everything glistened with frost in the gentle peace of the morning. But the mind of the boy beside me was anything but peaceful; Edward was still just as conflicted as he had been when we left, if not more. I headed inside to change for my early shift, leaving Edward by the river to sort out his choices. I prayed with all my heart he would make the right choice…but what was that, really?
"How's Edward?" Esme asked, waiting for me downstairs with my jacket and tie. I had reminded her countless times that I didn't expect her to wait on me like this, but she still insisted on it. On occasion, she pointed out that it was better she finish dressing me than Alice, humouring us both with the mental images of me turning up to work in an array of costumes. Today was not one of those days.
"He's…thinking…" I replied, trying to twist the truth just enough to spare Esme any worry. She tossed the tie around my neck and her hands flew around the knot.
"About what?" she asked. "He's not leaving again, is he?" I broke away from her hopeful face, unable to watch it sink back into despair.
"Oh," Esme said.
"I'm not sure what he's doing," I clarified, "but it is a possibility."
"It is the right thing, isn't it?" she asked, my coat still hanging off her fingers. "You know you don't have to do this," I said, changing the subject to avoid admitting my doubts.
"I want to," Esme insisted, looking at me strangely: we hadn't discussed this for over two decades. I held an arm out so she could put the coat sleeve over it and found myself smiling at my ridiculously kind wife.
"Just because we met when this was normal…and I mean, after Charles…I don't want you to feel obligated, darling. You don't have to do anything to make my life easier: your being in it accomplishes that."
Esme smiled slyly, letting me know that she knew that I hadn't fooled her; she was merely letting me get out of the conversation. Meticulous as she was, she fixed my collar, adjusted my tie, and stood on her toes to kiss me.
"I want to," she repeated, encouraging me towards the door and pressing my bag into my hands. "Now go save people."