AN: Here you are, friends! Thank you thank you for your reviews and your favorites and your follows, every time I see one of those notifications I do a little happy dance inside! A shoutout to loverofbooks14 this time for her review. From one reader to the next, hearing someone say they stayed up all night to read my story is seriously the best kind of compliment!
And thank you to everyone who gave me their input on the other POV question. This story will definitely remain primarily a Carlisle and Bella POV story, but I may toss in a few short chapters here and there in either Edward or Esme's POV.
Carlisle's POV
"He's coming home? You're sure, then?" Everyone but Esme had gathered in my study so that I could tell them about Edward's message. Rosalie was skeptical. The sharp bite to her words was evidence of her doubt, a doubtfulness which was by no means misplaced. After all, Edward had not been very responsive since his separation from Bella. And although Rosalie had been almost gleeful about the move from Forks (or at least as close to gleeful as she was apt to be in this life), she had been resentful of Edward for what had happened after the move. When she accepted his request to leave she did so because she hoped it would mean a return to normal, a return to the predictable and discrete life we had lived. But our life in Ithaca had been far from whole.
At any given time we have several alternate homes and identities lined up. The necessary paperwork is always tucked away in safekeeping should a hasty departure be called upon. When the decision was made to leave the Pacific Northwest, we chose to relocate to Ithaca. It was an area we had not inhabited since our fateful stay in Rochester seventy years prior. Not to mention, several years ago Esme had purchased a historic home there that had been slated for demolition, as she had the habit of doing with homes dotted throughout the country. And so we chose to move across the country, putting as much space between us and Forks as possible. Not that we worried about Bella raising suspicions.
As soon as we had moved into the centuries-old Victorian farmhouse north of town, Esme set to work renovating it. But anyone could see that her heart was not in it. Her usual flurry of excitement when it came to returning an old home to its former glory was absent, and an occasional flicker of inspiration was the only sign of enthusiasm for her project. She went about the half-empty home with a permanent furrow between her brows. Her actions were automatic. Sanding down a banister here. Adding a second coat of paint there. Her craftswoman hands on autopilot while her thoughts alternated between mourning and frustration.
Jasper and Alice spent as much time out of the house as possible. Jasper enrolled in undergraduate level courses at Cornell as soon as we arrived. He said it was to double-down on his time around humans, more determined than ever to prove he could do it. But I suspected the emotional tenor of the house most days was simply too much for him to bear. Between my worry and regret, Esme's heartache, and Edward's desolation, Jasper was hardly ever home for more than an hour or two at a time. Alice tried to stay home more often, usually to work alongside Esme, but ultimately the pull to soothe her mate was stronger, and she accompanied him to the university campus during the day and on his runs through the northeastern forests at night.
And Edward…Edward had claimed one of the topmost bedrooms as his own and remained sequestered in the empty room for days at a time. He refused to speak to any of us. His door remained locked and though any of us could have snapped the handle off with little more than a flick of a finger, none of us dared do so. That did not stop me from trying to see him though. Every morning I would stand outside the door, its paint chipped and peeling as it awaited Esme's restorative touch. I would knock once, twice, three times. Sometimes I would hear him shift around on the other side and for a second I would feel the hope inside of me imagine him coming to open the door. But he never did. So instead I would let my thoughts do the talking.
I love you, son. And I am here if you need me. Please, let me help you.
Always the same reassurances, the same promises. And always the same silence in return.
The irritation grew and smoldered in Rosalie. She could not understand how a simple human could have such a hold over him. More than once she had climbed the stairs and rattled the door on its hinges, speaking to her brother in tones fluctuating between agitation and consolation. When he said nothing, did nothing, in response, she would leave in a huff, a string of mumbled insults following in her wake. Her attitude towards her brother came across as insensitive, but I knew she had confided to Esme about the misgivings she felt at seeing Edward suffer because of his separation from Bella. Even if she did not understand his love for Bella, it still hurt her to watch as he wasted away. When it got to the point that she began to question whether or not she had made the right choice in defending Edward's decision to leave, Rosalie packed bags for Emmett and herself and put them on the first plane to Europe.
But now they were here with us once more and she watched me expectadley, waiting for a response to her question.
"Yes, Rose. I'm sure." My words did nothing to alter the expressionless gaze on her face.
"I've seen it, too. He is probably boarding his plane as we speak," added Alice.
We did not know where Edward was traveling from. When we spoke with him at Christmas he had been in South America. But that had been over a month prior. By now he could be anywhere in the world. Regardless of where he was, though, he would no doubt arrive within a day. Even the world's furthest destinations were only a day's flight away.
Emmett spoke up then, "So he doesn't know about Bella? I mean, he doesn't know that you changed her?"
"No, he only knows that she is here with us. He hung up before I could say more. Though to be honest I don't know what more I could have said over the phone, it feels more like a subject that should be brought up in person." I didn't add that I had been afraid of what he might do had I told him that I had cursed Bella to a life like ours. Would he have listened long enough for me to tell the whole story? I didn't like the idea of upsetting him further while not knowing where he was or in what kind of state he might have been. When I broke the news to him I wanted him to be with his family. I wanted to be there for him.
"He is going to be so mad," groaned Emmett.
Rosalie and Alice responded at the same time, the tone of their voices as drastically different as the reactions themselves.
"A little, but mostly just devastated," sighed Alice.
"Angry! He lost that right a long time ago," growled Rosalie. Emmett wrapped a comforting arm around Rose's shoulder and she relaxed slightly.
I spoke up, hoping to ease some of the tension that was building between everyone, "Knowing Edward, most of the anger he feels will be directed at himself."
"As it should be," muttered Rosalie under her breath.
"We will not place blame on anyone-" I tried to respond.
"Carlisle, you could have died! For all we know the entire family could have been in danger. For Christ's sake the Volturi guard just left our home not four hours ago! And all because of Edward's absolutely abysmal handling of the situation." She had shaken off Emmett's arm and stood before me, her eyes blazing. She lowered her voice, the vitriol in it fissuring and laying bare the true fear that motivated her outburst. "For almost an entire day we sat here knowing you were in Volterra, with no way of knowing what was happening. That same blasted image of you kneeling as though at your execution was the only vision Alice could give us. Each of us watching as Esme tried valiantly to hide the fact that she was splitting at the seams. All while Edward was god knows where. Leaving us to clean up his mess. So yes, Carlisle, I blame him."
She did not wait to see how I would respond before storming out of the room. Emmett stood as though to follow her but Alice's small hand shot out and gripped his wrist, yanking him back down to the couch and telling him to wait.
The shock must have been visible on my face as I heard Rose open the door to Bella's room. It was one of the last places I had expected her to go. But then Esme's whispered voice drifted down to us, "It's alright, Rose. Here, come and sit with me." I let out the breath I had been holding, relieved that she had sought Esme's comfort instead of taking off into the night.
I turned back towards Alice, "Have you seen his arrival? His response to what happened?"
She glanced at Jasper and then locked eyes with me, "It looks like he will get here tomorrow night. It won't be pretty, Carlisle."
Her words confirmed what I had been fearing for days. The way I saw it, Edward's arrival was guaranteed to be tumultuous. There would be his immediate frustration geared towards us, as he battled against feelings of betrayal. He had, after all, explicitly asked us not to contact Bella. Not that we'd had much of a choice in this case. Once he grasped the situation he would likely move on to feelings of remorse, placing all of the blame for what had happened on himself. While Rosalie may be of a mind to agree, I was not. At least not entirely. I was not upset about his desire to leave Forks but rather the treacherous lies he fed Bella to create what he believed was a clean break. And finally, when he realized I had changed Bella I fully anticipated unbridled anger. Whether it would be directed at myself or Aro remained to be seen.
Alice offered me what little information she had so that I might prepare myself as best I could. But her visions shifted relentlessly as the dawn approached. It could only mean that Edward's thoughts were chaotic. I could picture him easily, tense in his seat on the plane, his thoughts racing as he tried to figure out how Bella could have arrived in France with us. Each scenario would cause him to shift the blame. Shift the outcome of his arrival. Shift the vision. In one case it was my fault. In another it was Alice's. Or perhaps Bella had succeeded in seeking us out on her own.
Eventually Alice let out a huff and pulled Jasper towards the door, "I need some air." Jasper looked almost relieved to escape the tense emotional climate for something more neutral.
Emmett and I stood up, our thoughts in sync, and made our way upstairs. It was not lost on me that this was the first transformation that he was witnessing, his own change having been the most recent. Though it had been over seventy years prior. We moved at a human pace up the staircase, his footsteps heavier than usual. Bella's screams had calmed again in the early morning hours, and now only the sound of her pained moans echoed through the dark hallways.
"I don't know what I had imagined, but it wasn't this," mumbled Emmett. "I mean, I remember my own change, obviously I remember how much it hurt. But I didn't expect it to be this hard to hear her suffer through it." He winced as Bella began to weep more loudly. His eyes shifted towards the direction of her room. "I wish I could switch places with her, shoulder the pain myself."
His words brought back memories of the previous summer. When Bella wasn't working she could often be found at our home. While much of that time had been spent with Edward, she had also grown closer to the rest of the family, to Alice and Emmett in particular. Rosalie rarely acknowledged her presence, and Jasper always erred on the side of caution, preferring to leave both a physical and emotional distance between himself and Bella. But Emmett had no such reservations. He had fallen into his role of older brother with such ease that it was impossible to imagine that he had once suggested Edward just "get it over with" and give in to his basest instincts upon discovering that Bella was his "singer".
Indeed by the end of the summer Emmett's boisterous laughter could be heard ricocheting off the walls as he played pranks on the sole human member of our family, or convinced her to watch his favorite parody comedy films. When it came to Monty Python and Young Frankenstein Bella's unrestrained laughter had danced alongside his own. The memory made me ache.
"Watching someone we love suffer is in many ways more painful than if we were subjected to the pain of the suffering ourselves. You care for her deeply." We were standing on the landing, both of us hesitating.
He shrugged. "Of course I do. But I really, really regret this all. I never should have agreed to Edward's asinine plan. This never would have happened, at least not like this, if we had stayed in Forks. I should have gone back."
It was not easy to find the words to reassure him when I struggled with the same thoughts myself. All I could think to do was relieve him of as much guilt as possible by acknowledging my own responsibility in what happened. "It was my job to make that final decision about leaving. And I made the wrong one. You should never have been put into a position where you had to choose between remaining loyal to Edward and protecting Bella's own best interests. I'm sorry, Emmett."
He shook his head. "You don't have to take all the blame, Carlisle. We all deserted her. And now we are all paying the price. Though once again Bella is paying the heaviest price of us all."
A renewed howl of pain rent through the air in response. We turned towards the sound and took the final few steps towards Bella's room, joining Esme and Rosalie at their bedside wake.
It was a clear night, and the dark skies glowed with stars and a waning moon. There was no light pollution to create that artificial glow so common now near populated areas. On more than one occasion over the years I had found myself pitying the many humans alive today that had never witnessed a pitch-dark night, accustomed as they were to the constant presence of light. Cities humming with electricity, billions of stars overshadowed by billions of filaments in billions of bulbs. But tonight the darkness was an unwelcome friend. I hovered at the entrance to our home, wrapped in the warmth of the light spilling from the entryway.
I stood on the front step, my hands clasped behind me. My expression was neutral, giving no indication of what I was thinking. Keeping my thoughts controlled was harder, though, and I resorted to translating the Universal Declaration of Human Rights into the various Semitic languages. He would know that I was trying to shield my thoughts from him, but that was the least of my concerns. I wanted to be intentional with which thoughts I shared with him, and when.
Our driveway was almost almost a kilometer long but I could hear the car as it slowed briefly, turning onto the hard packed gravel. He immediately picked up speed again and began to race along the narrow drive. The sound of shifting gears could be heard as he turned the final bend. And then he was home, the car brought to a smooth stand still next to the garage. I maintained my position, having not moved a muscle since I first heard the car approaching. A flash of bronze burst from the driver's side door and he was there, standing several meters in front of me.
Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion-
My mind continued with the articles of the declaration, shifting from Aramaic to Hebrew to Arabic to Amharic as I went. Edward raised his eyebrows at my display. He took a few hesitant steps towards me. The only movement my body made was the shifting of my eyes as I took in his state. He was still in the same clothes he had been wearing when he left all those months ago. And upon seeing his onyx eyes I couldn't stifle the surprise that he had taken the risk of sitting through an entire international flight while suffering such thirst. My feeble display of authority threatened to deflate at the sight of his obvious misery.
"Carlisle. What happened? Please. Why did you bring her here?" His expression was a mixture of defeat and indignation. But there was also a sense of relief hidden behind his bravado. After all, he would not have come if he was not willing to see Bella. If he had not reconciled himself to that fact that such a separation was futile for them both. Despite what he had told her in the woods behind her home, I knew he had never stopped loving her. I had seen for myself how he had suffered in those first weeks, before he had taken off to hunt down Victoria for the risk she posed.
My voice was firm, "I had no other choice, son." At least not a choice that I could have lived with. I struggled to keep my memories of Volterra at bay. The translations continued, growing louder in my head.
Yàlidïn ìnon čoln-ènašëya čwaþ χeḁrrëya we šàwyëya va ǧurča we va zìdqëya.
"There is always a choice," he countered.
I opened my mouth to defend my actions but instead of my steady voice, it was Bella's scream that filled the winter air above us. Edward's eyes widened, his irises as dark as the night that threatened to swallow us in its depths. His legs appeared to give way and his knees crashed to the ground below him, his head falling into his open hands. Pure, unfiltered torment altered every muscle in his body. I took a hesitant step towards him, and the sound of my footsteps made him look up. His eyes narrowed and fury flickered behind the pain in his eyes.