Transcendence

Chapter 4: Loss

Then

Carlisle stood patiently at the previously agreed area at the edge of the woods two hours past midnight, just as he'd promised weeks before. He had also prepared for the meeting as well as he possibly could by feeding himself far more than enough.

He had smelled their arrival before he actually saw them come into view.

She had arrived by carriage, and had advised her chauffeur to park the vehicle along the main road for her to walk the rest of the way. Carlisle kept himself stationary leaning against one of the tall trees as she took careful steps on the uneven dirt path…

And she eventually stood before him, her arms cradling the child against her shoulder. As she'd offered and promised. The child was––

"She has your eyes" were Isabella's first words of introduction as she turned their daughter to face him.

Carlisle couldn't bring himself to step forward to hold her. But he kept his gaze fixed on the toddler's face. True enough, while the girl inherited her mother's familiar chocolate brown locks, her eyes were a deep cerulean blue.

His unbeating heart turned heavy as the child smiled up at him, stretching out her small arms towards her father.

"Would you like to––"

"No," Carlisle decided, stepping backwards once. "I have seen enough. I…just wanted to know."

Isabella's smile morphed into a frown. "At the very least, would you want to know her name?"

Carlisle gritted his teeth. "I…"

"Sweetheart," Isabella murmured towards the child in her arms. "Tell the man your name."

"I am Grace," she answered, giggling as she did. "I am––three."

"Dear God," Carlisle swore, his gaze falling to the ground now. "I…She's…"

"Mr. Seymour knows," Isabella continued, setting Grace down to the ground and holding her by the hand. "He has been very kind and does his best. He's protected us both from the rumors. Regardless, I could see it in his eyes––he can never fully be her…Which is why she needs me."

Carlisle couldn't help himself anymore. He knelt to the ground to fully face the child––his daughter. Without another moment's hesitation, Grace let go of her mother's hand and made his way towards him, until she held her tiny fists against the fabric of his shirt.

Gingerly, he let his hands hold his daughter by the shoulders. As gently as he could. "Hello, Grace."

"Up?" the child asked, raising her hands in the air.

And he obliged.

Isabella's eyes turned dewy as she looked upon the sight of him holding their child in his arms, rocking Grace slowly against him with a serene smile on his lips. "She's wrong, my love."

Carlisle froze his movements, his blood-red eyes questioning as he faced her again.

"Your––partner," she said slowly. "Your maker, I assume. She said you would have no one if you lost her."

Isabella took several paces forward until she was pressed up against him and their child together. Carlisle instinctively closed his eyes when she stretched out a small hand to caress his cold cheek.

"My feelings have never changed," she finally revealed. "I do not care what you have become, or the things you have done. My heart has always been yours."

"Isabella…"

"This time, I will not take no for an answer," she continued, her tone firm and confident. "I will not allow you traverse this hell alone. You have me. And you have Grace. You only need to give us time."

Carlisle narrowed his eyes. "Time?"

She reached down to hold the bump on her belly. "Only a handful of months. And I will run away to join you wholeheartedly. For the rest of time."

He widened his eyes in bewilderment, upon finally understanding what the woman was offering. "What are you––I will not damn you, Isabella. I will not take you down with me."

"You have already made the choice for me before, and yet my stand has not wavered once," Isabella cried, her brown eyes wide and frenzied now. "How many times must I continue to prove my devotion to you? You know it in your heart, Carlisle. This is what our story has always been leading to. You and me, traversing this hell together. This is our tragedy."

Carlisle's eyes wandered to the child in his arms. Grace seemed to have succumbed to her exhaustion and now rested her head against his shoulder as she slept. "And her?"

"We will be a family," Isabella said simply.

It was…an irresistible offer. In the end, he used his free hand to pull his love towards him by the waist, giving in to the minuscule, hopeful string of humanity had left as he kissed her with abandon and a silent promise.

He should have known, even then. That life was never kind to godless beings such as he.

He kept his new promise and waited patiently for the months she had requested. But in the end, it wasn't she who had appeared in the same edge of the woods as was originally planned.

"Carlisle Cullen?" Mr. Michael Seymour called out in the woods, his voice frantic and desperate. "I know you are here. You––You have to come with me."

The sound of dread in the man's voice eventually led him to reveal himself.

Mr. Seymour did not look fazed or terrified at all once he regarded the man. "You have to help me, sir. I know what you are. She has told me all. You are the only one who can save her."

"Save…her?"

"Please," he begged. "It may already be too late."

Carlisle did not need to hear any more and decided to follow the man towards the idle carriage. Throughout the tense ride, Isabella's husband only wept, muttering regretful words such as never going to forgive myself, damn me to hell, all my fault––

And they eventually reached the Seymour estate only half an hour later, with the expeditious speed the chauffeur had been advised to take at his master's request. Mr. Seymour led him wordlessly inside the large house, leading him up the stairs and into one of the private chambers…

Carlisle already smelled the situation before he fully stepped into the room. All the…familiar blood.

He ignored the loud cries of the newborn child that was held by one of the midwives at the corner of the room, ignored the long, aggrieved conversation Mr. Seymour had with the sympathetic doctors, and ignored the whispers as the staff was fully ushered away along with the newborn child. Carlisle remained strangely calm as he stood unmoving before the lifeless body of what was once his Isabella Blackwood, his hands kept into tight fists as he gazed upon her belly that had been surgically cut open.

You have me, she had promised. How…cruel it was for fate to allow him to hope.

"Save her," Mr. Seymour begged from behind him.

"I cannot," Carlisle said simply, slowly kneeling before the corpse of his love. "Her heart beats no longer. It is over."

"That––That cannot be," her husband wept. "There must be a way."

The grief in his unmoving heart seemed to morph quickly into anger, and Carlisle slowly rose to face the now-widower. "Why did you let this happen? Why did you let her be cut open this way?"

"I was not given much choice," Mr. Seymour said dejectedly, covering his face with his hands. "The doctors said it was either I lose them both or only lose her. I––It was an impossible decision."

The man did not even flinch when the vampire held him up by the collar, nearly strangling him.

"It was she––who told me––to call you," Mr. Seymour managed to say. "She told me––where you would be found––and the promise––she'd made."

Carlisle let go of the man then, letting him crumple to the floor. He watched as Mr. Seymour shook as he wept endlessly, his arms wrapping around his legs as he did.

"This is both our faults, Mr. Cullen," he cried.

Carlisle clenched his jaw tightly.

"You should not have abandoned her," he continued, his pale blue eyes looking up at him dismally. "And I should have let her go when she had asked. We––should have let her make her choice. We caused her demise. I…will never be able to forgive myself."

The vampire watched as the man slowly hoisted himself up to his knees until he knelt before him.

"I have always hated you," he admitted, looking up at him sadly. "For being the man I could never be in her eyes. Even after your––fall from grace, she still steadfastly chose you. But I am satisfied with the thought that you will suffer an eternity for the loss of her. That is penance enough. At the very least, I ask you to grant me the punishment I deserve."

Carlisle stepped forward once. "What are you saying?"

"I cannot forgive myself," he repeated again. "And I cannot live without her. Please––End my suffering before it begins."

It wasn't a heavy request. It would only take him less than a minute to fulfill, after all. But… "Where is Grace?"

Immediately, there was a flash of bewilderment in the blue eyes of the man on the ground. "Grace?"

"Are you going to abandon her?" Carlisle asked in a low tone as he seethed. "Along with the newborn she died for?"

"I––"

Carlisle grabbed the man by the collar again as he hoisted him to his feet. "Answer me, Mr. Seymour. Are you going to leave them without a family?"

The man shut his eyes tightly and Carlisle watched as a stream of dejected tears streamed down his cheeks. "I––do not know if I am even capable on my own."

"I am willing to fulfill my penance for the rest of my unending life," Carlisle said. "But your death is not a punishment. It would be a kindness you do not deserve."

He let go of Mr. Seymour then, letting him stumble to keep himself standing.

"Isabella would never forgive you if you abandoned her children. Let that be your penance."

Mr. Seymour swallowed once. "And Grace?"

Carlisle narrowed his eyes.

"She is not mine," he said slowly, a flash of spite in his features. "If you leave her with me, she is yours to abandon."

The decision was not difficult to make. "There is no life for the child with me."

Mr. Seymour was silent for a few long moments, before he walked over to the body of his deceased wife. He took her lifeless hand in his and sat down on the edge of the bloodied cot. "Isabella was the only thing I ever wished for in this world. All my life. I…do not know how to go on from here."

He turned around to face the vampire, but to his mild surprise, Mr. Cullen had already permanently gone.

Now

Alice decided to clear her throat once more. But the man standing by the full length window that overlooked the city remained unmoving.

"Edward told me about the incident," she finally decided to say, sauntering towards the desk––a new one, since Carlisle had broken the old glass desk during his fit several days ago. She sat at the edge of it before speaking again. "He also told me about your conversation on the way back. About Ms. Blackwood."

Carlisle remained quiet. Immobile.

"You've never told us about that particular story before," Alice said slowly.

"Why would I? It's irrelevant."

Good. He's finally speaking now. "It is to me. It makes everything make sense."

That piqued his interest, she supposed, because the blond swiveled his head to face her with a questioning gaze. "How so?"

"Three hundred years, and yet you never once sought out a companion. Even chose to turn a smug idiot like Edward instead of a…woman. I never understood it before."

Silence again, but this time Carlisle stepped forward to pull out the seat from his desk.

Alice waited for him to be fully seated before she continued. "I can't imagine going through this life without Jasper. He's––the only thing that keeps me sane. Grounded. Edward's satisfied with his unending supply of girls. But you…You don't even try to look for it. I even take it upon myself to satisfy your needs on that end, and even then, it seems half-hearted for you."

"Where are you going with this, Alice?"

"Come on, Carlisle," she tried, tilting her head. "I don't usually believe in fate or circumstance. My hundred years may be short compared to yours, but I've seen enough of the world to know everything is just––chaotic and haphazard. But you said so yourself, she looks exactly like––"

"Not exact," Carlisle cut off, his gaze now fixed on his lap.

Alice raised a brow.

"I looked her up," he admitted, his expression still blank. "Bella Swan. Her hair's darker than––She's paler, too, by a couple of shades. There are more freckles on the tops of her cheeks. And she's significantly smaller––"

"For fuck's sake," Alice sighed. "But it's still uncanny, isn't it?"

Carlisle gritted his teeth tightly for a second. "Yes."

"Exactly," the small vampire giggled. "It's––You have to admit that means something."

He gave in to the speculation, eventually. "And it's not just her."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The man she was with at the time," Carlisle said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "Mike Newton. He looked just like…The man she married, all those centuries ago. If this is truly the fate's doing, then it's fucking sick, Alice."

"Jesus…" Alice pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on her lap as she processed the information.

Carlisle leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the surface. "Tell me, then. What you think the purpose of all this is."

A pause. "I wouldn't know about purpose, love, but all I know is it's clearly a sign."

His blood-red eyes met hers once more.

"I'm already working on something for you," Alice said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Jasper, especially. Do you trust me?"

"Not really," he deadpanned, which earned a round of her bell-like laughter.

"Whether or not you admit it, Carlisle Cullen, you are curious," she said. "And so are we all."

The next couple of weeks were generally uneventful––at least, less confusing and strange as the day of the funeral. Bella managed to fall back into her usual routine at the shop, letting her unending menial tasks serve as healing––or perhaps a distraction––for her grieving heart.

It was also a welcome surprise that Mike had decided to stay longer in the state, calling in to his job to work remotely for the next month or so. While he stayed at the local hotel, he came over almost every other day to keep her company at the shop and her apartment. It was…kind. Mike Newton had always been sweet on her, after all.

It…made her curious though. And it was during one of his kind visits that she finally asked him the question.

"You're not only still here out of pity, are you?" she said as she sat in the restoration room, her eyes and hands working on the vintage book that had been sent over by a client to have the spine rebound.

Mike, who had been sitting at a desk at the opposite wall on his laptop, raised a brow from his position. "Sorry?"

"You think I'm lonely," she said, still not looking at him. "You feel sorry for me, especially now that my father's gone."

That caught her friend off-guard. He began to stammer, "I––No. That's not––"

"I just want to make it clear that I'm fine," she sighed, shooting him a reassuring smile. "I appreciate you still being here, really, but I…don't want to inconvenience you. You've always hated this town, after all."

"And I want to make it clear that I'm not here out of pity. At all."

Bella stopped working for a moment then, removing her gloves and turning her stool to face him fully. "Then why?"

"I–-" Mike's cheeks turned pink at this point. "Look, Bella…I don't think right now's the best time to talk about it."

She furrowed her brows. "About what?"

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the sound of the bell of the front door that signaled a newcomer to the shop. Bella smiled at him apologetically before standing up to head towards the counter.

"How can I help…" she began, but immediately trailed off once she recognized one of the two men who stood before her.

Mr. Masen had a permanent smirk on his lips as he regarded her. "Ms. Swan. I hope you've been well."

She instinctively nodded her head in his direction in acknowledgment before turning her head to face his companion. This one was blond, too, just like…But he was slightly taller and of a more angular build. Like a model. He wore a sharp, tailored suit and had a briefcase in hand. His eyes were a dark brown, but Bella could somewhat tell that he, too, wore colored contact lenses just as Edward did.

How…strange.

"I see," the blond began, his wide eyes roving over her figure once. "Interesting. So you're the infamous Bella Swan."

Infamous? "Excuse me?"

The stranger stretched out a hand in greeting, flashing a wicked smile. His teeth seemed too radiant and perfect. "Attorney Jasper Hale. At your service."

"Attorney…" she stupidly repeated, shaking his palm regardless. "Sorry, what is all this?"

Edward pursed his lips, looking almost apologetic. "I truly am sorry about this, sweetheart. But we just can't let your offer go so easily."

"What offer?"

"Transcendence," Jasper pitched in. "We won't be leaving here without it."

She turned to Edward incredulously. "Are you––You're still on that? Are you kidding? And you even brought a lawyer with you this time?"

Edward shrugged. "Hear him out."

"I did a little digging, Ms. Swan," Jasper began, pulling up his briefcase and unclasping the locks on the counter. "About you, your family, and your business. Swan Books and Antiques. And I came to the conclusion that this deal would be most beneficial to you than anyone else in the end."

"I––What?" she said, watching with confusion as the attorney laid out several sheets of paper on the wooden surface.

Her eyes widened with horror and humiliation as she recognized some to be her own private bills––for the shop's occupancy, her father's hospital bills, hell, even her college debt.

Her gaze had turned furious now as she looked up at Mr. Masen again. "You asshole."

"I did say I was sorry," Edward said simply.

"I don't think I have to say any more," Jasper sighed, laying his hands on top of the counter. "We're willing to set the starting amount to the accumulation of your current debt. If you'd like to add markup, we're very open to hear your terms."

"Fucking assholes," she cried, taking a step backward. "Both of you. Just––get out."

"Oh, dear," Edward sighed, cracking his neck. "Told you, Jas. We should've gone with the softer route first."

Jasper puckered his lips, his eyes calculating now. "Hmm. Perhaps."

Bella's breaths eventually reached a more normal pace as she watched the lawyer rearrange and pick up the sheets of paper from the counter, shoving them back into his case.

Jasper finished clasping his satchel once more before speaking again. "If straight-up payment is so abhorrent to you, Ms. Swan, how would you like to earn it instead?"

She scoffed. "What the hell are you on about now?"

Her eyes darted towards Edward, who had wandered away from the front desk and was casually browsing one of the book aisles. He crouched and picked up a book––an early edition of White Fang, she immediately recognized by the restored cover––from the bottom shelf. "Do you do all these restorations yourself?"

Bella narrowed her eyes dubiously, crossing her arms across her chest. "Yes. Now, at least. Since my father…passed."

"We're very sorry for your loss, by the way," Jasper said automatically.

"It's good work," Edward decided, flipping through the pages leisurely. "You see, CAC isn't usually interested in books. Not a great market for it, we always say. But ever since you appeared and brought up that…interesting offer, it's something that's been bugging the back of our heads. Mine, especially. Perhaps it's not that there isn't a great market, but a gap in the supply."

Jasper flashed a half-smile. "What Edward here is so convolutedly saying is we're willing to offer you a job."

Bella blanched. "A job?"

Edward found his way back to the counter, his hand still clutching the White Fang. "More like a…partnership. I'm sure this dingy place has seen better days. We could help restore your shop to its potential glory. We send you potential clients, you evaluate their collections––restore it, if need be––and send over to us those you're willing to part with. How does that sound?"

"I––Why?" she scoffed. "In exchange for Transcendence, I presume?"

Edward's eyes glinted wickedly for a second. "Like I said, only those you're willing to part with."

"Huh." Bella uncrossed her arms now, her hand reaching out to rest on the counter. "That's…a very bold offer. I'm not even sure how it would benefit CAC at all."

"It's not your job to worry about that," Jasper said simply. "Let us handle that part."

She thought about that for a long while, her gaze fixed on her hand on the surface as she did. Eventually, she decided to say slowly, "I'm…not confirming. Not without an actual documented agreement. But––say I do agree to it. What else would that entail for me?"

Both men looked at each other for a moment, sharing what looked to be a silent conversation. In the end, Edward said, "Well, for starters, you'll have to renovate this entire place. On our tab, of course."

"What?"

"It's not exactly CAC material," Edward said, chuckling softly. "Since you'll be a partner––hypothetically––you'll have to adjust to our standards."

"I––Okay," she managed to say. "And what else?"

Jasper looked reluctant this time as he said softly, "You'll have to report to him. To…Mr. Cullen. Carlisle."

Carlisle…There was an unusual twisting in her stomach as she once again remembered the strange, beautiful man with the blood-red eyes. "You mean the guy who nearly punched my friend in the face for my not showing up to an appointment? That Mr. Cullen?"

Edward bit his lip. "He had a bad day, okay? And I thought we agreed. No harm, no foul. Also…he's the boss. All of ours."

She crossed her arms again. "So this whole agreement has his go-ahead? And he actually wants this partnership?"

For some reason, her words caused both men to chuckle darkly. As if it was an inside joke.

"Yes," Jasper finally said. "Definitely. We would never go against his wishes."

What the… "I'll need some time to think about it," she finally decided, clasping her hands together behind her back. "And a documented agreement, of course."

"Naturally," Edward said, nodding solemnly. "I'll be back for that, Ms. Swan."

"Bella? I––"

The three immediately turned towards the sound of Mike coming in from the restoration room. Bella noticed from the corner of her eye that the expression of her guests had immediately shifted at the sight of her friend. Edward's especially had turned icy cold.

"You," Mike said in a low voice, his gaze fixed on the bronze-haired man. "What are you doing here?"

Edward's green eyes narrowed as they darted between him and Bella. In the end, they fixed on the latter and repeated, "I'll be back very soon, sweetheart. In case you have any questions, you have my number."

"Y-Yes," Bella said, nodding once.

"Let's go, Jas," Edward sighed, dropping the White Fang text unceremoniously down on the counter and wrapping the same arm around his companion's shoulder, eventually leading them both out the shop.

"Bella," Mike said warily as soon as the doors closed. "What was that? What were they here for?"

She swallowed once, her gaze still fixed on the spot where the two strange men once stood. "I don't know. They just…offered me a job."