TW: Violence, drugs.

A/N: Song suggestion, for full effect - Cry by Cigarettes After Sex.

Dame Fortuna

Chapter 24: Memory

A Week Ago

"Hey, sweetheart."

He was already waiting in the living room for her when she came down that morning, already dressed in the Victorian gown and glammed up for her mission. Carlisle had a soft, but sad smile on his lips as he regarded her.

"How is he?"

"I did what you suggested," she said, sighing as she took a seat next to him on the couch. "I slipped him a pill and cuffed him on the bed. I'm guessing he'll be out for a while."

"That's good." He paused, looking at her solemnly. Apologetically. "I'm really sorry about this, Bella. If you want to back out––"

"No, you're right about everything," she cut off, putting on a confident smile. "And you believe in me, don't you? That I can survive this?"

Carlisle nodded once. "Only you can."

"Then it's settled. I won't let you down."

Her words seemed to have affected him, because his angelic features contorted immediately, showing his pure pain and guilt. It…was heartbreaking. "It's the first time I'm feeling this."

"Feeling what?"

"I don't want you to go at all," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Even if I know it'll save me and benefit me. I've––always been selfish and remorseless to everyone but my family, you know?"

"Well, he proposed to me last night," she admitted. "If everything goes to plan and I survive this…We will be family."

Carlisle's eyes narrowed at that, and while he didn't look upset or surprised with the news, he looked more melancholic than anything else. There was a bittersweet smile on his lips as he said, "Congratulations."

Bella merely smiled back at him.

"Fuck," he swore quietly, standing up to his feet. He paced a couple of times before speaking again. "Everything is settled then. You have no choice but to survive this. Because…it's time. For me to let go of Bluewave."

Bella widened her eyes. "But you just got the seat––"

"I know." His gaze was downcast. "I thought it would be everything I dreamed of. That all the things I've done to make up for my mistakes…That it would make everything worth it. And I have changed. I've finally seen what it is I've worked so hard and come so far to do. It's a legacy that I'll always be proud of.

"But I've grown old and weary, sweetheart. Especially because of this war. I suppose even I have my limits in the end. And I––really, really miss her, Bella. Once everything is done, I just want to…go home."

No. "Carlisle. Please. Edward needs you. I need you."

"I'm pretty sure Edward will plan to kill me anyway. For what I'm about to put you through."

"He'll forgive you. He always does."

"Once I'm out, the natural succession dictates the seat to fall to him again," Carlisle continued anyway. "You've seen how that turned out. While he's perfect for keeping the peace and maintaining business as usual, he's got too much of a heart that people can easily take advantage of."

He sat down again, this time on the edge of the coffee table across from Bella. He took her hands in his and gazed upon her in earnest.

"He needs you more than he needs me," he finally said. "Because I'm vouching for you to take the seat in my stead. After all, I already see the best of me in you."

Bella immediately shook her head. "No."

"You're practically family now," he said, smiling softly. "It's my other reason for introducing you instead of him to the legal sponsors. At the end of this, after your sacrifice, Fortuna will be the face of Bluewave."

"I don't want it."

Carlisle sighed, letting her hands go. "Apart from me, no one who deserves it really does. So what would it take?"

"I––" Bella choked. Then, she decided, "We can discuss it when we get back. All of us."

The blond puckered his lips, looking hesitant.

"For fuck's sake, Carlisle," she cried. "After everything I've done for you and what I'm about to do, this is all I'm asking for. I'm not going to let you down, so you better do the same. If you really care about Edward and me, you will stay with us. Until the very end."

He merely stared at her for a long while, his cerulean irises soft again. Eventually, he promised, "Until the very end."

Present

God, this lot was too big.

Carlisle had to think faster. After eventually slipping away from the main fight––he'd thrown the soldiers a finger when they offered to accompany him––he'd canvassed several areas and ruthlessly massacred more than twenty of Wynona's troopers by himself. But it just wasn't feasible to keep kicking down every door and scouting every room in the twenty-acre compound. If she was hiding among the innocents, she would've been found by now.

So she couldn't be in one of the houses. She had to be in a place that could be easily overlooked.

On instinct, he skidded his stolen patrol car to a stop in front of a small establishment. Hmm. This was definitely inconspicuous, if the stupid woman decided to hide in here. And also a bit sacrilegious, which was basically Wynona's thing.

"Fuck it," Carlisle sighed, stepping out of the vehicle and arming himself with an assault rifle and his favorite revolver at his back.

He walked leisurely along the path. He caught skittering movements to his right and immediately took several shots in that direction. It was just as he thought; a handful of Wynona's guards––already wounded––were hiding in this area, too.

Carlisle continued up the steps to the small church, his rifle reloaded once more and readily pointed ahead of him. It looked completely empty at first glance. Regardless, he decided to scout every inch of the place, only breathing lightly so he can hear everything around––

And then he heard it. Heavy breathing, right behind the altar.

He remained silent and didn't make a single sound as he slowly made his way around the elevated platform.

And there she was. But she was already ready with a hostage––and the worst one of all.

"The girl will die along with me if you shoot," Wynona spat as she sat on the ground with her back against the altar, with Tanya in a chokehold in front of her. The tip of her pistol was pressed onto her temple. Fuck. Edward had always been the sharper shooter. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to––

Why do I care? he suddenly thought. After all, the girl had betrayed him. He had drilled into his mind that if ever Tanya survived this, he would let his son take his revenge and end her life. The boy had never forgiven her since Alessia, and especially now after Bella.

And Carlisle couldn't forgive her, either. Shouldn't.

Right?

But…there was something about the last footage he watched of Bella's imprisonment, before his newfound friends in the military cut all service and electricity. When Tanya had finally stepped inside the room in the guise of killing her.

You will never understand what it's like to be loved truly and unconditionally, Bella had said. You only know what it's like to give it.

His hand tightened around the handle of the rifle.

What was this feeling? Was it…pity? He'd never thought about it that way, after all. In fact, he never really gave Tanya too much thought––consciously or subconsciously––ever since he took her away from her sad, pathetic life in the streets. In his head, he was doing her a favor. Her loyalty and later devotion for him, while unexpected, benefited him. It was how he'd turned complacent. He knew she'd always be around and on his side.

Until she wasn't.

But actually looking at her now…There was a lump in his throat as he gazed at her for the first time in so many months. She'd lost all life in her pale blue eyes. Her cheeks were sullen, and the bones of her wrists and collarbones were more prominent now. And her hair––his favorite feature of hers, perhaps because it reflected his own––had been trimmed short until her shoulders, and had lost all its former volume and vibrance.

It somehow ached to see her this way. But this was her fault. For siding with Wynona.

And yet…

"Let her go," Carlisle said softly.

Tanya's eyes widened at the request, and slowly they gained back the life they once had. And seeing that––tugged something on the left side of his chest.

Wynona began to cackle frenziedly behind Tanya, pressing the gun harder on her head. "My, my. I fucking knew it. I acted on an inkling, you see. I knew the girl wouldn't know anything valuable about war. She was only ever just your favorite pet to torture. I decided to keep her anyway, just. In. Case."

"In case what?"

"In case you truly are the weakest and most pathetic you've ever been, Carlisle Cullen," Wynona said, a wicked smile on her thin lips. "You've gone too soft. You don't deserve to be where you are."

"And you do?" Carlisle chuckled humorlessly. "Look around you. You lost everything. You're nothing but a fucking idiot who overplayed her hand. I'll always be better than you."

Wynona sucked in a deep breath. "I want to negotiate."

"You're in no place to do that."

"All I'm asking for is time," Wynona insisted, her gray eyes widening. "You brought the military here. The fucking government. I know what you promised them in return. Me."

Carlisle tilted his head. "Hmm. Perhaps you're not that slow."

"I don't want to die," she said, her voice cracking. "There's still––so much I want to do. A legacy I want to build."

"Oh, please." Carlisle groaned, growing impatient now. "How dare you pull from Bella's speech. No one gives a damn about you. You think I would ever do you a favor after what you'd done to her? To my people, too?"

Wynona swallowed once. "Then she dies along with me."

Carlisle's gaze turned towards the woman's hostage. He took a deep breath. "Hey, sweetheart."

Immediately, Tanya's eyes began to swell with tears. "Hi."

God, he truly was soft now. The sound of her gentle voice after so long… "You know I can't let her go, right? You understand that I have to do this?"

Tanya's lips curved up to a soft smile. "It's okay. This––is what I want. How I want to go."

What?

"Bella understood that, somehow," she sighed. "I had a feeling I was never going to make it out of here. I told her…I didn't want to be her victim. If I was going to go…"

A tear rolled down her cheek, and her pale blue eyes were warm towards him. Despite and after everything.

"I just wanted to see you again, one last time," she admitted, her voice shaky as she wept. "Even if that meant you'll end up killing me yourself."

Carlisle couldn't help it anymore. His lips quivered and the corners of his eyes moistened at the admission. He knelt down before her––

"What are you––" Wynona began, adjusting the pistol on Tanya's head.

"I wish you stuck to hating me instead," Carlisle said softly, his focus remaining on Tanya. "You know I––I don't deserve it, sweetheart. From you."

"I know." A sigh. "And I do hate you. I just wish…I knew what she was like."

His eyes widened underneath his tears.

"Maybe if I knew just what it was that made you fall in love with her, I could––" Tanya released a shuddering breath. "It's sad. But I was and still am willing to do anything for you. I'm just so sorry for letting you down this time."

Carlisle shook his head slowly. "Don't. And it isn't about her. If anything, you're far kinder than she ever was."

"What?"

"She just so happens to own my heart," Carlisle sighed. "I'm sorry, Tanya."

He died for you. A cruel, selfish monster died for you. I can't––I don't understand. I can't wrap my head around it.

Perhaps this would be the best and most suitable final offering to her. After everything he'd put her through. It would be, after all, the closest thing to love he could offer her. She deserved it more than anyone else.

And he was…tired. He'd gone through enough. This war had taken a toll on him, and he just wanted to go home. To Esme. He'd made her wait for him in the pits of hell long enough.

Tanya's eyes widened as she watched the man slowly remove the strap of his assault rifle, and throwing it far to the side.

"Carlisle, what are you––"

Wynona stood up then, dragging Tanya up with her as she did, her gun now pointed towards the man across from her. "What are you doing?"

"Do it," he said, his gaze fixed on the ground. "But you have to promise me to let her go."

Tanya began to wail.

Wynona's jaw clenched and her hand trembled around the gun. "Is this a trick?"

"No," he assured her. Then to Tanya, he smiled angelically before saying, "I hope this is enough, sweetheart. A gift from your very own cruel, selfish monster."

Tanya's face contorted to pure anguish. "Don't," she begged. To Wynona, she said, "Take me instead. Please––Not him. Anyone but him."

Carlisle closed his eyes.

It's true, then. That your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die.

Whenever he thought about her back then, his memory always first pulled up the way he'd fallen upon her in that kitchen. Her slashed wrists, unmoving heart-shaped face, and her dead hazel eyes. But this time, his mind was kinder.

He suddenly saw her before him, in her apartment with the candle-lit dinner she had prepared for him. He watched her smile coyly up at him across the table as she poured her own assigned killer a glass of wine. She was…beautiful.

"Why?" he asked her, bewildered. "How did you even know I was coming?"

Esme had a lit roll between her manicured fingertips. She took a drag before responding sweetly, "You know how you just…have a feeling that you can't explain? At the pit of your stomach?"

He blinked slowly. "And instead of locking the doors and keeping yourself safe, you decide to welcome your own death? With grilled salmon and wine?"

"It's my favorite," she chuckled. "I suppose I just couldn't help myself."

"From what?"

"From meeting the man who holds my life in his hands," she murmured. "I must say, I'm taken aback. I didn't know he'd be an actual angel."

That…was the day he'd decided to be reckless. To be selfish. After all, she said he held her life in his hands. He had every right to keep her.

His mind further wandered to the blissful handful of years he spent with this strange woman who bewitched him body and soul, who he believed fate had given to him as a gift. While he had certainly never been kind in this life, maybe he was in a past one.

And she wasn't kind, either. No, she was a firecracker. She even frequently joined him in his Bluewave missions, enjoyed the scenes of sex, murder, and especially drugs, and was his partner-in-crime. His soulmate. And just as Bluewave belonged to him, he belonged to her.

It was perfect.

He then found himself standing outside the master's bathroom of their old apartment, a memory years later than the first. He had rushed all the way from downstairs after hearing her sharp, excited squeal.

"What happened?" he asked worriedly.

Her back was to her initially, but she slowly turned around. There was a wide smile on her face as she held up the stick in her hands. "Baby. I'm…pregnant."

Carlisle released a shuddering breath. Pregnant. The word reverberated in his mind over and over again, and his heart began to beat erratically.

"Hey," she said, setting the stick down on the sink and placing a reassuring hand on his upper arm. "It's okay. I just––"

That was when he finally smiled––genuinely––and gazed upon her with tears in his eyes. "We're pregnant."

Esme's hazel eyes scrutinized his expression. "You're…happy? You're actually happy?"

His response was to pull her by the waist and to lean down to kiss her deeply. He'd never cried happy tears before, but there was a first for everything. And he was sure there were several more of these in the future, and yes, he was––happy. Because the only person he would ever want to go through them was her. The only love of his life.

But sooner rather than later, he realized that Esme wasn't fate's gift at all, but a stone-cold lesson. A consequence.

Because there he was now, hovering over their own shared bed, tying the knot around her wrist tighter as she squirmed and screamed beneath him.

"You are such an asshole!"

"You know why I'm doing this," he said calmly, swiftly dodging when she tried to kick him with her foot. "You just can't fucking stop."

"It was just one time!" she cried.

He began rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, trying to find where she'd kept her new stash. "For fuck's––Just tell me where it is."

Esme began to cry now, leaning her head back onto the headboard and beginning to knock herself against it several times. Hard. Carlisle immediately stepped towards her, reaching out behind her head to soften the blows. He gritted his teeth from the pain.

"Please stop," he begged, sighing deeply. "Just tell me, baby. Tell me where it is."

"You don't love me anymore, do you?"

"Of course I do," he assured her, smiling sadly down at her. "That's why I'm doing this."

"But you never had a problem with it before," she cried.

"For fuck's––You're pregnant, Esme," he reminded her. "You can't do this anymore."

"Fuck," Esme wailed again, knocking her head backwards again, causing another round of bruising on Carlisle's hand. "Then get it out of me!"

Carlisle's eyes widened, flashing with rage. It? "Excuse me?"

"I don't want it. I don't want it anymore, baby. Get it out of me, please. If you love me, you would."

He released her hold on her head and stepped backwards slowly. His gaze wandered down to the prominent bump on her belly. Clenching his jaw again, he said, "You're staying here for now."

She blinked slowly, her face covered with sweat and tears. "What?"

"I'm…not going to let you leave this room," he decided. "Until he arrives."

"What?" she cried incredulously, writhing from the ropes around her wrists. "You––You wouldn't."

"I can't let you hurt him," he said slowly.

Carlisle chose not to remember the few months that came after that. He'd bring her to a hospital if he could. Instead, he kept his own beloved wife trapped in their own shared bedroom, with only home doctors and select estate staff to keep her company. Even he couldn't bear to look at her at times, out of guilt.

But this was for him. His safety prevailed. Above everything else.

His memory now led him to the day he finally came. God, the boy was perfect. He decided it was all worth it in the end, now that he was holding him in his arms for the first time inside the bedroom of their new house in Oregon. This was…a fresh start. They can finally be a family––the closest thing to one in their world.

"Edward," he cooed, gently rocking the baby in his arms. "How fitting."

He turned to his wife under the sheets. She had fallen back to sleep soon after the difficult labor, but the doctors had assured him she was alright. He sat down on the edge of the bed, using his free hand to hold hers.

He was holding his whole family for the first time.

The house used to be his solace. That's how it began, at least, for the first few months with Edward in their lives. After the brutal discussions and missions at Bluewave, there were just some days that he needed a retreat, and that was in the company of his wife and son.

It was one of those tough nights that he came home to catch her in Edward's bedroom, holding a pistol to his child's head.

"Get away from him!" he cried, immediately pulling Esme by the arm and wrestling the gun away from her hands.

His wife looked dazed and confused before him, her eyes wide and…dead. "I––Hi, baby. Welcome home."

"What the fuck were you doing?" he demanded as soon as he was able to ensure the boy was fine. "You were going to shoot him? Your own fucking child?"

Esme didn't even look fazed. "I…don't know."

"You don't know?"

She merely walked––floated, really––out of the room and closed the door. And that was when he knew.

His wife was gone. And it was his fault.

Carlisle fought back his own tears as he walked back up to the crib. Edward was awake. But he was…quiet. The boy––who didn't look anything like his parents, with his bronze hair and strange, pure green eyes––looked up at him. Almost expectantly.

"It's not your fault," he found himself murmuring. To a fucking baby.

But the child smiled regardless, his tiny arms reaching up, asking to be held by his father. And he obliged.

A few days after that, he decided to have the talk. The compromise. He took a deep breath before stepping inside their shared bedroom, and was unsurprised to find her motionless and sitting by the windowsill, her hazel eyes staring blankly at the view before her.

Carlisle swallowed once and continued to step forward, until he was right next to her. She still didn't look up. She closed her eyes, though, when he began to caress her cheek.

"Hey," he greeted softly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," she replied robotically. "I'm sorry about Edward."

That was…good. "Okay. Do you think it'll happen again?"

She blinked once. "I don't know."

Carlisle exhaled slowly. "Why do you hate him, Esme? He's done nothing to you. To us."

"My whole life ended because of him," she said solemnly, her gaze still fixed on the window. "I don't know who I am anymore. I'm not cut out to be a mother. I miss…our old life. The rush, the danger, the people––Now I'm just stuck here with him. Sometimes I wish I was dead."

That caused an instant pang in his chest. Despite everything, he just can't…He can never let her go. Desperately, he asked, "How about we make a deal?"

For the first time during that conversation, Esme's eyes gained a bit of life as she narrowed them towards her husband. "A deal?"

"You can get some semblance of your life back," he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can't take you to dangerous missions anymore, but you can go out and…do whatever you like. As long as you always come home to me. I––won't stop you anymore."

Esme's breath turned unsteady. "But the kid…"

"I'll hire someone to take care of him," he said, looking out the window with her and putting his hands around her waist. "And I'll bring him along. When he's a little older. He's my heir, after all."

His wife looked up at him, a weak smile on her lips. "Okay."

"That's not all. I need you to promise me something."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You have to love him," he said firmly.

Her smile faded. "Carlisle…"

"If not, then don't hate him," he bargained. "You can't––hurt him. Ever. He's already going to hate me as a father, once I pull him into my world. I can take that. But I don't want him to lose his mother too."

He thought that would be enough. That the compromise would be able to keep his family together, somehow. Esme had taken advantage of her newfound freedom as soon as Alessia was onboarded to the staff; his wife would leave in the morning and only came home when the boy was asleep, dazed and reeking of alcohol and whatever new thing she'd discovered. Just as she promised.

The years also eventually turned the Cullen patriarch colder than ever, too, as the business thrived and raised its stakes exponentially nationwide. And his heart turned to ice, especially with the way the boy looked at him when he got older, upon fully understanding just what his father did for a living. He'd gotten used to the look of betrayal and disgust in his sage green eyes when he fully onboarded him to the type of world he was born into at the tender age of thirteen.

And it didn't take long for the compromise to fall apart, too. Soon, his wife had fallen in too deep with her vices again, until she practically never left the four walls of their bedroom.

Finally, his memory led him to the last lucid conversation he had with her. The one just days before she…He had just gotten out of the shower and was dressing up in master's bedroom, preparing to leave for the club with his son as soon as he came home from school.

His wife was in bed, as she usually was at this hour, but she didn't look to be high out of her mind yet. And this time, the shell of the woman he loved actually wanted to have a conversation with him. "Baby?"

Of course his heart twisted at the sound. She practically never called out for him anymore nowadays. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you stay home with me today?"

Carlisle's hands stopped their movements from tying his tie. He clenched his jaw and slowly turned to face her. "Stay…with you?" he repeated.

Esme nodded once, pulling the sheets away and patting the spot next to her.

He gingerly stepped forward to lay with her, as she requested, pulling his tie loose and fully unbuttoning his dress shirt. He couldn't help it. He constantly missed her. Esme welcomed him with open arms, letting him take his place above her and kiss her softly as his hands wandered down her body. She was thin, weak, and fragile now, so he had to be gentle. But if he closed his eyes…He could imagine. That this was still her. His woman, the only woman who ever owned his heart.

God, how he missed her.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, his eyes still tightly shut, when he finally released himself inside her.

She whispered something unintelligible when she let go, too, and let herself be cradled and spooned against him afterwards. After several long minutes of peaceful silence aside from Carlisle's languid kisses on her shoulder blades, Esme murmured, "I'm sorry, Carlisle."

His lips froze on her skin. "For what?"

"I should've let you kill me that day," she whispered. "When we first met. You shouldn't have kept me."

His jaw clenched. Slowly, he pulled her by the waist to turn her to face him. "Do you regret it? Running with me?"

Esme smiled sadly. "No. But you do."

"I never did," he insisted. "And I never will."

Silence. "Because I gave you Edward."

His blue eyes narrowed.

"I know you care about him more than me," she sighed. "Because I'm…not the woman you fell in love with anymore. I've made my peace with that. You only choose to stay with and take care of me because you want to keep his family together. It's the one thing you don't want to sacrifice."

Carlisle pulled away and leaned his back against the headboard. "I care about you, Esme. You'll always be the only one."

Esme reached out to place her head on his bare chest. She heaved a deep breath before murmuring, "Well, when I go, you'll need to go easy on the boy."

Carlisle's breath hitched. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I'm having that feeling again, the one I can't explain," she said somberly. "At the pit of my stomach. I…don't think I'm meant to last much longer in this world."

His hand reached up to grasp her tightly by her bony shoulder. "You're not going anywhere. I'll never allow it."

She cracked a self-deprecating smile. "What, are you going to tie me to the bed again? To make sure you get what you want?"

He swallowed once. "Esme––"

"It's just a feeling, nothing more," she cooed, snuggling against his neck. "I'm just saying that if ever it happens, you'll be all he has. And he'll be yours."

A long pause. "That's a disturbing thought."

"The kid's got a heart of gold, despite having us pathetic degenerates as parents," she chuckled humorlessly. "I realize I wasn't the only one who was doomed when he was born. He was, too. And while I can't say I…care for the child as much as you wish I did, at the very least, I care about you."

She looked up at him from underneath her long lashes, her warm, hazel eyes the most sober they'd ever been.

"He still needs his father," she said softly. "And you still need his forgiveness, after the war is over."

What? This…wasn't how he remembered this conversation going.

Esme continued anyway, sitting up and straddling him on the bed. Her smile was kind as she leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips, murmuring, "I love you forever, Carlisle Cullen. My sweet angel of death. But you can let go of me now. You've suffered with the memory of me for long enough."

Carlisle choked. "I can't. I want to hold on to it until the end. To you. I want to come home."

"I'll always be waiting," she assured him. "But you can't go like this. Especially when you've finally reached your goal. Your redemption. You and Edward deserve a happy ending, after so many tragedies. And…so does she."

His gaze fell guiltily on his lap. "I…"

"How can you make sure she lives if you go?" she said, smiling sadly. "She's beautiful, by the way. And you're right. She's far kinder to you than I ever was, despite living her whole life in our world of monsters. Stop breaking her heart for the sake of me."

Carlisle looked up at her, his own eyes glazing with tears. "I don't know if I can let you go."

"It's only about time you did," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Wake up, baby. You have to open your eyes right now."

And so he did.

A/N: Not gonna lie, this took a lot out of me––in the form of tears, actually––to write.

Only two more chapters to go. I appreciate you, always.