Fic: Beaufort

[icmezzo_archive]

A/N: This is the story of Edward. Of choices. And of the wind, which lifts
and carries and bends us to its will. Bonds are tested, storms are weathered,
and love is the measure against which all must be judged. Slash. Vampires.
Edward/Carlisle. Rated M.

I am incredibly grateful for the help of my prereaders and betas both in
shaping this story and making sure it was written in proper English. They truly
went above and beyond with this one. So many thanks to Missyfits,
Theladyingrey42, ArcadianMaggie, and TwilightMundi.

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots,
etc., mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or
reproduction of this work is permitted without express authorization.

---

Beaufort

Part 1: Half cadence

"Darling, you've read my mind."

My playing faltered slightly as my mother came up behind me and rested her
hand on my shoulder. I hadn't realized she was there.

"Oh?" I replied, barely paying attention as my fingers tumbled over the keys,
attempting to negotiate the difficult passage in the Scherzo of Chopin's second
piano sonata.

"I was simply wishing you would play a few minutes ago," she said. "And here
you are."

I heard the smile in her soft voice.

"Mmmhmm." I agreed, as I let the music pour forth, aware of every
imperfection. One day I'd be able to play it perfectly. If I simply practiced
enough.

I gave up and switched into the Lento.

"I wonder though, perhaps a different choice this evening?" my mother asked,
pausing to cough lightly mid-question.

Concerned, I peered at her over my shoulder, and she shook her head slightly.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice rough. She patted my shoulder as she coughed
once again. "I simply need a bit of water."

"I'll get it for you," I offered, noting the thunder that rumbled in the
distance.

I sped through the remaining chords in the funeral march so I could finish
the movement, craving the resolution enough to hurry the end.

As the final cadence rang through the home, I abandoned the piano, and
hurried off to assist my mother.

xXxXx

Rain fell on the concrete sidewalk as I hurried along.

Everything had happened so quickly.

My mother's cough had grown worse, impossibly fast, and spread. First to my
father—my proud, invincible father—and maybe even (dare I acknowledge the very
possibility?) to me.

I choked back a cough and shook my head to clear the haze that threatened at
the periphery of my thoughts, hurrying onward. My mother had needed a few things
from our house, and I'd wanted to get there and back to the hospital before she
woke up and missed me.

My father was at the hospital as well, but he no longer woke at all.

I wrapped my coat tightly around me to shield myself from the cold drizzle
that had settled over the city. Dodging puddles, I ran through the streets of
Chicago toward our home.

There wasn't much time.

xXxXx

Light faded to dark before it returned again at daybreak. The change was the
only indication time had passed.

The walls of the hospital were gray, as was the deep fog that took residence
in my head.

I was vaguely aware that my mother clung to life in the bed next to mine.

Only the occasional presence of a physician stood out in my mind. I never
heard him arrive, though time and again, I would wake, and he would be there,
silently watching over us, pale and gold and kind.

There was little care he could provide to my mother and myself, or any of
those strangled by the influenza. Yet, he spent his time by our bedsides, and
though my lungs filled with the disease, I felt strangely lucky for his
attentiveness, his presence a comfort to me.

I could tell he was there even before I opened my eyes, a luminescent figure
standing guard as I slept.

My mother died the next evening. The physician rested one cool hand on my
shoulder, its weight comforting, and pressed his other to my weary, fevered
cheek as I wept, half-delirious and ready to follow after her.

I was permitted no such thing.

xXxXx

The stories had been true; every pulpit threat precise.

Fire licked my flesh as I recalled warnings of brimstone, tales of pain and
anguish.

What had I done to deserve such an eternity? I understood my deepest hidden
desires weren't … appropriate. And as such I'd never acted on them.

Was thought alone enough to grant a pass into agonizing hellfire?

It seemed that was the case.

Blinding pain tore through my body as flame incinerated my mind and consumed
my flesh, somehow becoming ever more acute over time.

I screamed, though I'd long since learned it offered no relief.

Fire.

Burning torment.

A descent into madness.

---

Part 2: The color of cold

White gold, my guardian was, though far more perfect than I'd realized
through my weak human eyes.

My angel saved me from eternity in the depths; I understood this the minute
my eyes opened.

He saw it differently, believed he'd sentenced me to permanence.

But having been rescued after tasting hell was enough to ensure my gratitude;
I'd no desire for more than a three day visit. Eternal death on earth in my new
body was hardly punishment in comparison.

That's not to say it was idyllic.

The burn in my throat served as a reminder of the incineration of my
humanity; the voices in my head remained as a chronic testament to the madness
of burning.

And if I'd wanted in my human form, it was nothing to the rich ache I
experienced now. The physical needs of a vampire were potent and unrelenting,
far different from any fleeting desire I'd felt before.

Yet crimson sustenance seemed far more attainable than my white one, my
light, who proved as ethereal as he was brilliant.

Were it not for his mark on my neck, I'd wonder that Carlisle had ever
touched me at all.

xXxXx

"Then anti-scorbutic factor, which is the vitamin found in citrus..."
Carlisle looked up with a smile.

"Should be termed vitamin C," I grinned, setting down the reference book.

"Brilliant," he said, taking notes in his journal. Water-soluble
C...vitamin found in citrus fruit...anti-scorbutic... consumed daily in adequate
dosages... prevent scurvy...

"Just you wait," I laughed. "One day they'll discover vitamins H, and K, and
S, and U!"

"Maybe," he said, shaking his head. "There's so much still to learn."

"It's good you don't have to waste time sleeping then," I pointed out.

"Right." He chuckled as he got up from the table. "I'm going to head over to
the hospital to show this to Dr. Conway before my shift begins. I'll be curious
to get his opinion on this. Perhaps we can borrow the laboratory to do a bit of
testing as well."

I smiled as I watched him dash around the house getting ready, a flurry of
excitement as he prepared to leave.

As always, just before he left, he made sure to find me.

"You'll be okay?" he asked as his mind sought reassurance that I wouldn't
drink anything I shouldn't, or panic from the voices, or otherwise need him in
his absence.

"I'll be fine," I confirmed. A few months into my new life, I had gained more
than enough control to make it through a few hours without him.

"Okay then, I'll see you tonight," he said. I'll miss you.

"I will. And I'll miss you too," I smiled and listened as he shut the door
gently behind him.

He could pretend that he was concerned I'd drink our nearest neighbor, but we
both knew that the real reason he checked in before leaving was simply so he
could hear those last few words.

xXxXx

"Can you read the minds of the clouds as well?" Carlisle grinned as I
returned from my run mere seconds before torrential rain began pelting the
windowpanes.

"Of course." I said, shutting the front door behind me. "Oh, and they said
you should stop mocking my exceedingly impressive mental ability."

"And why should I do that?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. "Will I be struck
by lightning?"

"Worse," I said solemnly, making my way up the stairs to my bedroom. "It'll
be so sunny you'll be stuck inside for weeks. You'll get so thirsty you'll have
to drink from the old skunk that hides under the porch."

"Is that so?" he chuckled.

"Yep." I called back to him. "I thought it was rather ingenious of the
clouds, but the skunk doesn't like his odds, so he's going to go stay beneath
the neighbor's barn for a few days."

Carlisle's laughter rang through the house, clear and bright.

xXxXx

"Play for me?"

Carlisle had returned from the hospital earlier that day, and from his
thoughts, I could tell it had not been the easiest of shifts. He had looked more
exhausted than a vampire should.

Now he was simply quiet as he sat on our loveseat, staring off into space, a
neglected book by his side.

"Oh, sure," I agreed, putting down my work to take a seat at the piano
bench.

Thinking for a moment, I decided on the Chopin Scherzo that had eluded my
fingers as a human. Within a short time; however, I felt Carlisle's hand on my
back.

"No," he said. "Play for me."

My fingers stilled. I didn't need to pick through Carlisle's thoughts to
understand; he wasn't necessarily impressed by complicated. Gently, I rested my
fingers atop the first notes of Satie's Gnossiennes No.1,a piece
he loved.

Please? For me?

Closing my eyes, I began to play, pouring out the emotion the piece
demanded—slow and haunting, sensual and timeless and absolute, written without
measures, without bars, without limitations.

Thank you, he thought as the final notes hung in the air around us.

I nodded, opening my eyes again when I felt his loss of his hand.

"Shall I build us a fire?" he asked.

"Please," I replied, needing the warmth.

Later that night I imagined us dancing together to that same mournful song,
his cheek lightly touching mine and his hand once again pressed against my
back.

xXxXx

It was well past midnight. We lay sprawled in the long grasses of a forest
clearing, sated after hunting, and content to relax and enjoy the splendor of
the moonless night.

I thought I'd known stars as a human; I'd identified constellations with my
father on the back steps of our Chicago home, wishing like mad on the occasional
shooting star. But I'd never forget the first time I experienced the evening sky
as a vampire, far from the haze of the Chicago lights and without the
limitations of human sight.

Tonight, we stared—up, up, and away at the multitude stars, pricks of white
and gold and blue. The planets, and their moons, circled overhead, wrapped
around each other, tied to each other in their ordained celestial paths.

"Amazing," I whispered as a meteorite fell to earth.

"Phenomenal," he replied, as he watched Perseus chase Cepheus through the
sky.

I looked over to study his profile. He was utterly gorgeous, pale and refined
against the darkness. "Beautiful," I breathed.

You have no idea, he thought, turning to hold my gaze.

Carlisle looked away first. I could no sooner escape his pull than a moon
could turn from its heavenly path.

xXxXx

I observed Carlisle treat, and care, and heal, fueled by his all-encompassing
passion for life.

I listened to his thoughts as he read, greedily feasting on the latest
medical advances or losing himself in tales and teachings from distant
lands.

I watched him hunt—grace and power, raw and unmatched—envious of the trickle
of blood that spilled from his lips, and down, down his pale neck, and down
further still.

I was in awe of the angel; I fell in love with the man. And I needed,
desperately, the vampire.

xXxXx

One evening at dusk I stood and watched as Carlisle walked along the coast
near our small home in the cliffs. Tucked away, this place was far from the
bustle of the nearest town, so there was silence even for me, but for the
unending song of the ocean swirling and curling through rocks below.

"I know your mind, and I know my heart," I spoke to the sunset and Carlisle.
I knew I was not alone in my feelings, though Carlisle pretended I was, burying
not only his own emotions, but denying mine as well.

He studiously ignored me, or rather, attempted to.

"We are already connected in ways unbreakable. Why won't you let us join
together in every other way as well? Why deny what we both need?"

I paused and waited for him to respond. As usual, nothing was forthcoming.

"Please, Carlisle, I need you. I need to touch you and ... Why won't you let
me?" I pleaded. "Why won't you allow yourself to love me?"

His near stumble in the sand was the only indication he had heard me.

"I do love you, Edward." He turned to me, suddenly fierce. "Never
doubt that."

"Not the way we both need you to," I contradicted him. "You made me who I am
and gave me life. How could I not love you? Admit you feel the same way."

"Exactly," he spit out. "How could you not? And that is why we shall not."

He turned back to the water and began walking again, though he directed his
thoughts to me.

It is my venom that ties you to me, nothing more. I won't have you bound
with poison.

"It's so much more than that and you know it. It is not only because
you changed me—though I love that you saved me and I love seeing your claim on
my neck."

He interrupted me with a deep growl before managing to regain his otherwise
endless control.

Edward, stop. The answer is no. I won't have you like that. It is wrong
and I've already taken too much from you. Please don't ask me again. I will not
be your default simply because I'm your lone companion and your...

He couldn't even think the word, he hated to acknowledge what he had done to
me, how he had changed me.

"How can you deny who you are and who I am? How can you deny yourself your
mate? And how can you deny me mine?" I asked, my anger mounting.

He threw a large rock against a cliff a few hundred feet away, shattering it.

The next stone he plucked from the ground found its new home a quarter of a
mile out to sea.

The third I never saw land, as I had turned away, my heart cracking and my
eyes burning with dry tears.

We'd had this conversation before, and would again.

Because I refused to give up on him, on us.

He ignored my departure.

xXxXx

We ran across the arctic earth, stretching our legs across the frozen lands
of the Yukon, finally reaching the sea at the northern edge of the
territory.

Night was unending this time of year. Stars pierced the moonless dark, their
light dancing along the crystalline ground as Aurora Borealis spilled across the
sky in shimmering reds and greens, similarly echoed by the glacial ice below.

Utterly frozen, but fully alive.

Taking my place at Carlisle's side, I glanced up at him. Every ounce of my
being wanted to experience this night with him, not next to him.

Out of ideas, not knowing how else to reach him, I decided he gave me little
choice as to my next course of action. Without warning, I pressed my mouth to
his.

He instantly reverted to stone.

"For God's sake, Carlisle," I said, exasperated.

He stepped back warily, his mind already working to forgive me, blaming my
youth, my naïveté, the recentness of my change. It was always the same.

But as the days had melted into months and years, I'd grown more and more
unwilling to let him hide behind his careful facade.

"Why can't you admit what we are? Why must you always refrain from everything
our bodies need?" I challenged him.

Looking up at the sky, I strained to keep some control as my insides
threatened to shatter, the taste of his unwilling lips lingering on mine.

He stood right next to me but was as distant as the stars and similarly out
of reach.

"What are you so afraid of?"

My voice was loud. Louder than I'd intended, and magnified by the silent
shimmering world.

He looked me calmly in the eye. "I'm going home. I hope you'll join me."

Devastated yet again by his refusal to fight, to even consider or address the
issue, the air in my lungs seemingly evaporated. I bent at the waist, barely
holding myself together. His venom ran through my body; he touched me always,
everywhere, yet I couldn't reach him.

He watched me until I finally managed to nod in response, whereupon he turned
and began making his way back to our home.

Pulling myself together, I silently followed him across the thousands of
miles, studiously remaining several paces behind him the entire way.

xXxXx

We hunted one summer afternoon in the dense forests of the Rocky Mountains,
the blood coating our throats, warming our bellies, lubricating our hearts.

"You only want me because my poison links you to me." Carlisle watched me as
I ran my hands through a cold mountain stream. "I won't let that be the
reason."

"You're a fool," I told him. He'd taken to talking, always talking, yet never
swaying. He argued with himself half the time now; I'd heard it all before,
hadn't even brought it up this time. I knew his next words before he uttered
them.

"You deserve a choice," he insisted.

"I've made one. Let me make my choice." My own refrain was similarly
unchanged.

"You have options."

"I don't want them."

I'm tired of fighting this.

"Then stop," I sighed.

I can't. It's not right to take advantage of you, he thought as he crouched next to me,
inhaling deeply, and I could see him blink slowly, his usual reaction to my scent.

"You aren't," I breathed, half intoxicated by his nearness.

I want you. His golden eyes were unblinking as he tilted
his head and leaned in. It was new, how his eyes shifted to my neck, studying
his mark on my skin. He never allowed himself this much before.

I felt his breath ghost across my scar.

And then his lips.

Moist. Perfect.

And followed closely after by his teeth.

His bite was an echo of his first claim he'd made on my body, and the razor
sharp pain coursed again through my desiccated veins, arousing me as it twisted
up with the exquisite pleasure of his touch.

I shuddered in his arms as he released me, though it was his gasp that
carried through the forest. Dropping me abruptly, he shot off into the deep
green.

Though he must have heard my strangled call for his return, he didn't come
home again for more than a week, and when he did, he was even more distant than
before.

He could barely look at me, and I desperately needed him to open his eyes.

We were at an impasse.

---

Part 3: Summer's guest

The oppressive July sun had singed the earth and sent the nearby wildlife to
rest in the cool shadows. But while nature slept around me, I felt a sharp
awareness electrifying my body, alerting me to the presence of a stranger on our
land.

My defensive crouch was instinctive as I waited for the unknown to appear.

The vampire who emerged gave a warm smile, obviously comfortable and
confident in his skin.

"Garrett," he introduced himself, his red eyes settling on my own with a look
of surprise. His mind was open and honest—a sharp contrast to Carlisle's tamped
thoughts—and he was a traveler, a wanderer, merely passing through.

"Edward," I responded in kind, noting how the sun kissed his olive skin and
threaded through his dark, shoulder-length hair. His clothes were indicative of
his nomadic lifestyle, rough and torn and raw.

Recognizing no foul intentions, I held out my hand, welcoming him to our land
and, eventually, taking him to our house, offering our bath and a bit of
comfort.

Garrett could not understand how two vampires could exist in such close
proximity if unmated.

I let Carlisle explain that one.

xXxXx

Day after day, I lazed in the sun, the weather unusually clear and hot.

Garrett was inevitably by my side, a few feet away in the grass—or closer.

Somehow I was always surprised by his casual touches, simple brushes of flesh
against flesh. I'd become so accustomed to Carlisle's reservations that
Garrett's physicality felt foreign. I welcomed it though—I'd missed being
touched—even if the physical connection was merely a hint of what I truly
desired. Even if it served to remind me again and again of all that Carlisle
refused to be.

It seemed Garrett had the sun at his beck and call, bringing the brightness
with him as he walked the earth.

We laughed and talked as the grass grew up around us during the white heat of
July, the oppressive warmth of August. My new friend shared fascinating stories
and tales of the world far beyond my own experience.

Meanwhile, Carlisle hid behind the ruse of extra shifts and dusty files in
the garish fluorescent lighting of the small community hospital.

In time Garrett began to largely dismiss Carlisle, and the one I loved
withdrew to his office with increasing frequency. When I mentioned his absences,
Carlisle merely explained he was bored by the bravado of Garrett's stories,
having already had ample centuries of his own for exploration. Or so he
said.

xXxXx

The summer tumbled into fall, and it wasn't until the first insistent breezes
of late September arrived that I had the opportunity to be with Carlisle alone
for any length of time.

"Were you uninterested in accompanying Garrett into town?" Carlisle's eyes
were distant, his mind veiled as he sat at our table, medical journal in
hand.

"No," I said honestly. "I miss spending time with you."

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You'd rather remain with me? Did you long
to read the newspaper with me in angry silence after yet another of our
arguments, perhaps? Or did you want to pace outside of my office while I study
the latest vaccine out of Poland as you once did? Or perhaps you'd prefer to
stand by the front door for hours simply waiting for me to return from an
eighteen hour shift at the hospital? There is nothing for you in this. And what
you dream of, what you want with me … It is wrong. You are wasting your
time."

"I do have forever, you know," I pointed out determinedly. "I want to be with
you. I don't care what we are doing … even if we just read boring articles for
the rest of time. Besides, I love you. How can that be so wrong?" I took his
journal from him, forcing him to look at me. "In time you'll see..."

He shook his head, and, snatching his journal back, reopened it to the
article he'd been reading. After some silence, he spoke, mostly to the journal.
"You have blossomed under Garrett's warmth."

I scoffed. "As though you'd notice."

He continued on, ignoring my words. "He told me yesterday that he means to
leave soon, and hopes you will accompany him."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

Carlisle's eyes flashed as he recalled how Garrett's dark eyes had burned
along the length of my body as we sat in the sun.

"Carlisle, please don't," I begged. I had no interest in Garrett. He only
served to remind me how it could be with Carlisle.

Carlisle ignored me to instead replay Garrett's obvious arousal as he hunted
beside me the week prior.

"Stop!" I spat out. I'd known of Garrett's plan, of course, as he'd been
considering this move for some days. He had begun to feel strangled by our
settled existence. And while I'd vaguely noticed his growing attention, it had
been nothing more than a bit of saltwater on parched earth. I certainly had no
intention of joining him. My place was with Carlisle.

Or, at least I had thought it was.

"I think you should go." His voice was cool, his words measured. "Go with
him."

"I can't believe you think I'd leave you."

"Nevertheless, I believe you should."

"You're joking. I live here. Stop being ridiculous."

"I'm not," he replied, the lack of emotion in his voice startling.

I stared at him and he held my gaze.

"You want me to leave?" Disbelief colored my words as I fought to make sense
of Carlisle's suggestion. I had known our relationship had been strained, but
I'd always held out hope that he'd one day come to accept my true role in his
life. But it seemed that instead of choosing me as his mate, he wanted instead
to remove me altogether.

"You have someone who is willing to give you everything that I must not. And
I should concentrate on my patients. A young woman passed the other day who
shouldn't have and I won't allow that to happen again."

"Carlisle," I begged. "I won't leave you."

He paused and looked out the window. "I need to concentrate on my work.
Besides, it will be … simpler. There is more for you than me. It's time for you
to go."

"Please, don't do this," I pleaded.

But it was no use.

There we were, suddenly and unexpectedly, on the edge of white and cold and
goodbye.

Carlisle left the room without another word.

xXxXx

I waited for Garrett just beyond the edge of our lands, past the boundaries
of the place I'd called home.

Not knowing where we were headed, I packed lightly, my love too heavy a
burden to carry with me. So I left my heart in the hands of a physician.

I wondered if he knew.

---

Part 4: Fallen

I admired the way the colors of the autumn leaves brought out the rich hues
of Garrett's skin.

Perhaps it was this that led us to our place on the forest floor, cushioned
by the fallen October reds and yellows that had danced along the ground until
they landed in our path.

It wasn't that I particularly desired him. I'd merely been observing, curious
how his every movement seemed so absolutely sensual. Perhaps if I'd been more
like Garrett, Carlisle wouldn't have been able to turn me down.

So I watched him.

But while Carlisle was a giver, Garrett simply took.

When he caught my eye grazing along the musculature of his chest yet again,
he did not hesitate.

And I did not turn him away.

Faster than expected, I found myself in a bed of leaves, their rich wooden
scent filling my nostrils and crackling against private flesh that Garrett freed
without pretense.

He led me through the motions, taught my hand, guided my mouth, and I came to
understand what it was to be surrounded by the weight and musk and taste of
another. I learned the feel of fingernails pressed into my skin, of another's
palm around my length, and the unexpected rush from a scrape of teeth and
soothing tongue.

But when he pressed into me roughly, he taught me even all of that
wasn't enough to make me forget. It was pleasurable, the way he manipulated me,
but not enough. Even as he filled me, I remained achingly empty.

There, on my knees with my head against the earth and the wind cooling the
hot kisses Garrett placed on the curve of my spine, I could think only of the
one I truly wanted. Not Garrett's rich reds and burnt oranges and warm browns,
but the cool white goodness of my mate.

I shut my eyes against the world and allowed Garrett to take me, abusing my
body with his need.

It was when he bit down suddenly over the scar Carlisle had left on my neck
that I screamed and came suddenly, my traitorous body clenching and releasing
until my muscles felt limp.

Garrett merely increased his rhythm until I felt his teeth again, though this
time I simply shuddered as he marked my shoulder.

I'm not sure when he came.

Perhaps it was while I watched the crimson maple leaf with the torn corner
fall slowly to the ground.

xXxXx

Garrett was a wanderer.

He felt trapped, he said, and was gone before the same tree had shed the last
of her clothing.

It was the coldest winter I'd ever known.

---

Part 5: Winding road

I was somewhere in the mountains the following spring when he found me. His
scent reached me, carried by the wind from a nearby ridge as I was seated at the
summit, seeking guidance from the flowered earth. I stopped breathing, having
learned from past experience that the joy fluttering in my lungs and threatening
to spring free was never worth the subsequent pain.

When I saw the white gold of his hair as he scaled a cliff face, I buried my
head in my knees, hiding my face from promises unfilled, desires unmet.

When I heard my name on his lips, I covered my ears and tried not to listen
to the emotion coloring his voice, desperation, and relief, and Come
home. Come home. I miss you. Come home.

His declarations found a way through, wheedling between the cracks until they
weakened my resistance enough that I gave in.

And I looked up.

"Carlisle," I whispered.

He knelt and cupped my cheek. "My Edward," he said softly as he took in my
appearance, rough from an unsettled life. "Your eyes."

He brushed his thumb below my eyes, attempting to heal the deep purple grays
with his touch.

Come home with me.

I choked back a sob of relief as he hugged me to his chest. I stayed the
entire night in his arms and well past the next dawn.

xXxXx

Side by side, Carlisle and I ran until we finally reached the front of our
small home along the sea, the salty wind greeting me after my absence.

It was exactly the same as the day I'd left it.

"I missed you so much," he said. "You were right; you belong with me..."
Carlisle trailed off, eventually clearing his throat.

"But...?" I prompted. It had been a fairly long journey back to our property
from where he'd found me—more than enough time to peek into his mind for hints
of what was coming.

His shoulders stiffened. "We should probably talk."

"Probably," I agreed, as we wandered over to the rocky beach, hoping that a
discussion would be more fruitful than listening in to his one-sided mental
monologues.

Squatting beside me, I watched his throat bob as he swallowed. "Carlisle?" I
asked cautiously.

"I missed you so much. And we are family, and we should be together. As
brothers, perhaps. But you have to understand that any more than that, I think,
would be wrong."

I sighed. I was glad to be home, but that didn't mean I was content with his
decision. Carlisle's resistance to change and the fact that his youth was spent
in the presence of a heavy-handed religion meant that his moral code was both
strict and static.

"Why did you even find me?" I had to ask.

"I didn't have a choice. I couldn't think without you. I didn't know how to
live apart from you… "

I shook my head. "Didn't you ever stop to wonder exactly why that was? We
could be lovers, Carlisle, the mates we were meant to be."

I gasped as dozens of vignettes of us, together, in life, in work, in bed,
together in every way he'd been denying us, so clear, so detailed, passed
through his mind. So precise I knew instantly they were not the first time he'd
envisioned them, not by a long shot. He took a shuddering breath and abruptly
stopped the flow of his thoughts.

"Would you have me go against everything I believe?" he asked, studying me.
"Simply because I want something, doesn't make it mine to grasp. Would I
encourage you to drink human blood because it would fulfill that craving?"

I interrupted, "That's different—"

"Not to me. Trust me, I know it is hard. But with enough discipline..."

I stared at him as my words failed me. It was happening all over again. His
guilt and fear still trumped love. He was so good, so unfailingly good and
disciplined and careful that he refused to take even what I was more than
willing to give.

"Isn't it enough just to be together again as we used to be?" he asked, his
voice rough.

Looking out at the ocean, I found I couldn't answer.

So there we stood, outside our small home on the coast, in the salty wind.

Exactly the same as the day I'd left.

xXxXx

Standing by the kitchen window, I gazed out at the steam rising from the
ocean in the predawn hours, the mist swirling higher and higher until it spread
so thin it disappeared altogether, only to return and repeat its journey the
following morning.

I felt Carlisle's gaze on my back, heard the catch in his breath, and so,
waited patiently for him to formulate the thoughts that had circled in his head
for days.

"Where exactly did you go while you were gone?" His words carried a forced
nonchalance when he finally spoke.

I turned to him, eyebrow raised. "Do you really want to know?"

He studied me for a moment before sighing. "No, I suppose not."

I nodded, and turned back to the window, recalling how my human breath would
have left a white cloud of condensation on the glass, perfect for writing hidden
truths before the canvas evaporated. As it was, the window pane remained crystal
clear; my secrets would remain undocumented.

Gazing past the glass, I watched the sun creep over the horizon

xXxXx

Carlisle cracked the neck of his prey before tearing at its jugular, greedily
swallowing. His eyes glistened and his skin flushed the slightest shade of pink
as he drank in deep, audible gulps. Sleeves rolled up, collar loosened, and his
hair just slightly mussed, his human facade always slipped a bit as he hunted.

It was unbelievably erotic.

He would have hated my thoughts. Discipline, Edward, he would
have reprimanded me, entirely hypocritically, as he'd enjoyed watching me hunt
just as often. Nonetheless, discipline, he preached. Control. Restraint.

I couldn't bring myself to care. I stood back, content to watch his
unconscious display, as the heady aroma of fresh blood combined with the scent
of Carlisle and filled the air around us.

He looked up eventually, and found me staring at him. He bit his reddened
lower lip.

"Edward..."

There it was, the disappointed sigh of my name.

I wanted him so badly it hurt, and though all I was doing was watching him,
it still wasn't good enough for him.

I tensed and turned away, looking up at the crescent moon above. "What?" I
replied eventually, my voice strained with my efforts.

"You let your deer go," he replied, confused.

"I guess I wasn't thirsty," I mumbled. "I'm going home. I'll see you there."

I turned and ran back to the house, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I didn't know
how much more I could take.

xXxXx

"He didn't hurt you, you said?" Carlisle's words would have been out of the
blue had his thoughts not spun consistently around the question for the past
several days.

I looked up over my piano score I'd been studying. "Correct. He did not."

Carlisle nodded.

But, you didn't look well, when I found you.

I looked at him pointedly. "I never said I wasn't hurt."

"Right," Carlisle looked down at his hands.

I sighed, and stood up, tossing the score on the table. "Look, I didn't care
when he left. He meant nothing to me. Okay?"

"Okay," he murmured, chagrined, as I left the room in search of lighter air.

xXxXx

The days fell one against the next, our life increasingly discordant with
desire and denial. As the sun heated the spring into summer, the tension
simmered between us, eager to erupt and force an end to our truce.

It finally did so the day Carlisle noticed the scar Garrett had left on my
shoulder, a permanent reminder I would always wear of the autumn afternoon when
I fell to the earth. Whiter still than my pale skin, the mark was visible as I
read outside shirtless in the humid afternoon sun.

Carlisle stared at the bitten flesh of my back, recognition flooding his
features until they twisted his face into one I barely recognized. The passion
I'd known was in him finally broke free and he exploded, tamped emotion bursting
forth in a jealous rage, worsened by the knowledge that he had no right to be
angry, not after pushing me away.

"What is that?" he growled, reaching for my arm. "Did you let him touch you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he shoved me up against the wall of our house,
clasping my wrists above my head, and smashing his mouth against mine.

I pressed back, eager for his taste and fueled by his sudden emotion, my
traitorous body always, always needing his, even like this. Even like this.

Suddenly, he spun me around. His thigh between mine, a hand on my wrists, the
other, pressing my face to the wall.

Without warning, he growled.

Mine, he thought, just before his teeth cut into my flesh over top of
Garrett's mark.

Mine. The pain from his bite ripped through my body and my knees
threatened to give out.

Mine. My skin scraped against the wall as I arched in agony from the
venom.

MINE!

I whimpered in response, a pleading sound, his name wrapped in pain and heat
and somehow also an offering of myself, always willing to give him everything.

The sound of his name served to bring him back to himself, and I turned from
the wall in time to watch him step away as guilt and horror flooded his mind.

I collapsed to the ground, knowing what was coming. I'd seen it before, after all.

Sure enough, he started to run.

This time, I wouldn't let him.

"No, Carlisle. You don't get to run away. You don't get to hide. You don't
get to be afraid any longer. And don't you fucking dare apologize!" I yelled
after him as I got to my feet.

I always was the faster one.

I caught him within a few seconds.

When I reached him, I wrapped my arms around him from behind until I could
pull him to the ground pinning him beneath me. "You don't get to decide anymore.
It's not just about you." Fury rolled off of me as I glared at him. "I'm in this
too. You changed me. And you made me who I am—your mate. It's time you
owned up to what you did and who you are."

He struggled below me, trying to free himself from my grip, but venom coursed
through my veins, and anger fueled my muscles, rendering his attempts futile.

"Edward, please. You're better than this," he gasped out.

"Says the man who pressed me up against the wall not three minutes ago," I
spat back.

He flinched. "Edward, please, think about—"

"I'm done thinking," I cut him off, pressing my mouth to his.

I kissed him, again, and again, and again, until he gave in and his thoughts
began to race with the same desire that swept through my own. Kissed him until
his hisses gave way to soft groans, until his struggles turned to writhing limbs
that twisted up with mine.

Listening to the soft pleas for everything he'd always denied us, I tasted
him, his lips, his tongue, his neck, and then, after tearing free his shirt, the
flesh of his chest, the skin below his arms, below his navel, below...

I wasn't sure I could have stopped even if he had told me to.

Touching him, holding him, coaxing from him the want and passion he
desperately fought to hide, he responded to me, panting and groaning, my name on
his lips as I took him in my mouth.

Edward, what are you doing to me? I can't... My God, Edward, please,
more, please... Your mouth, Edward, your lips and your mouth. You're
so beautiful. I don't... don't stop. Please, more, please... His thoughts were jumbled, his
need trumping his restraint as his hands combed through my hair, and pressed me
to him, until crying out, he came.

It was then that I knew that just a taste of him wasn't enough for me
anymore. Brothers, friends, they were never going to be enough. All or nothing,
no more half way.

I sat back on my heels, releasing him and allowing him to choose.

All or nothing. Everything or alone. Fully together or completely apart.

He got to his feet and straightened his clothes. Leaning against a tree, he
buried his face in his arm. I felt the shift in his mind as his control slipped
back in place and knew his decision before I voiced the question.

"I can't do this, Edward. I want to, but I can't." He was shaking.
"I...can't."

He straightened his shoulders and turned to me, his face a mask of turmoil
and pain that I'm sure was mirrored in my own.

"I have to go," he said, his voice shaking. "I have to go."

This time I let him run away.

Meanwhile, I fell to the earth, heaving with dry sobs until I had nothing left.

I heard thunder rumbling off in the distance.

---

Part 6: The Storm

The world held its breath. Electricity coated the atmosphere. Animals, birds,
all were silent. Waiting.

The still air reluctantly gave way to a slight breeze, just enough to turn
the leaves on the trees. A glance at the sky confirmed what my body knew: it
wouldn't be long now.

I'd returned to our home to wait with the earth, the rocks, the forest. But
while the world waited eagerly for life-giving waters, I, dead, was dying. I
needed only him. I had since the moment he'd changed me. Probably since before
then.

But I'd pushed, and he pushed, and I took and he took, and now, I didn't know
who was right or wrong, only that I needed him, and he was gone. I didn't know
if he'd be back.

More wind.

Still more.

The sky steadily darkened as deep purple mountains of cumulonimbus crept
closer.

My eyes flickered to the ocean. Where the water had once been calm, whitecaps
now formed atop crests of salty sea.

I couldn't help but turn again to our home, our refuge. Hope defied my
attempt at suppression, blooming defiantly within me in the instant it took to
turn from the shore to our house.

As quickly, it was dashed. He wasn't there. It remained dark. Empty.
Waiting.

Still.

I couldn't go inside. I wouldn't. The structure was meaningless without him.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. My mind strained to hear past it, seeking
his thoughts in the wind. Nothing.

So I waited. On the verge of... something.

Changing air, hot and cold, carried the storm in my direction as I remained
unmoved. Every glance toward the house was merely another rush of hope crushed.
Every look left me more broken than the one before. He wasn't here.

I ached. A spring storm meant little in the long breath of immortality. The
weather wouldn't harm him. I knew this. He would be fine. He would survive.

But as the first droplet of freshwater landed on my brow, the thunder shook
and rolled ever closer, I realized I knew something else.

We might not.

I needed to reach him, to bring him home.

My heart ached at the thought it would end like this.

Standing in the place where the spray of the sea met the first branches of
the forest, I faced the woods. Though the sky was dark, I saw clearly. I
searched the branches for a glimpse of him, any indication he was near. I
breathed deeply, seeking his scent in the wind. Strained to hear his thoughts in
the air. I tasted the oxygen-rich air, that smell of life and—if I was
lucky—reparation.

There was nothing.

The last of my ego sank away into the dry earth with the first drops. I faced
the trees, not with hope, but instead sheer desperation. Cupping my hands to my
mouth, I called to him, more loudly than could ever be necessary: "I'm sorry."

My words reverberated through the forest, bouncing from tree to tree until
swallowed up by the swirl of the wind and the patter of the rain on the dark
upper canopy. My world became darker still as I waited for a response.

I didn't receive one.

For all that I saw, and heard, and smelled, none of it was him. I tried again.

"I'm sorry," I pleaded. I'm sorry I let another have me, when in truth I've
always belonged to you. But mostly I'm sorry I took what you were not ready to
give. No matter how badly I needed you... The truth felt heavy embedded in my
apology.

The drizzle became a downpour.

Flickering light, rolling thunder, winds whipping through the trees, the
storm was upon me, the breathing tempest more alive than I. Swirling currents of
sea and sky swept aside normal activity as Nature demanded obeisance.

Despite my physical strength, there was a weakness deep within me, a fissure
threatening to shatter the place where my heart should have been. A crack of
lightning split the atmosphere and I snapped.

"Carlisle!" I cried, wrecked and raw. "Come home."

My hands clasped my throat in a weak attempt to hold myself together. "I'm
sorry. Please." I heaved with dry sobs, falling to my knees. "Come home, please,
come home."

Until I had nothing left, until my words became whispers lost in tumult, I
told him.

Again, and again, and again. I'm sorry. Please come home.

Sheets of rain poured over me, and I rocked slightly in the wind. Gusts bent
trees and lifted saltwater high against the rocks. Thunder shook the earth to
which I clung. Without my foundation, what else was there to grasp?

"I'm sorry," I called out, for the seventh, eighth, the hundredth time.

Please, Carlisle.

Please. Come home.

Please.

My eyes were wet with rain as the world cried for me. For us.

A burst of light flashed through my vision. I turned in time to witness
another stretch of lightning as it reached down to touch the ocean, illuminating
the sky in its efforts, fury unleashed from the skies.

It would have been wise, I knew, even composed of stone as I was, to seek
shelter. I couldn't decide if I cared. But somehow I eventually pulled myself to
my feet, my physical strength uncompromised by my emotional and mental
destruction. As I turned toward the home that had at one time been full of
possibility, electricity danced across the sea, raw energy exploding into
whitegold heat and light.

But I didn't see the lightning.

I didn't see the ocean. I didn't see the trees. I didn't even see our home.

All I saw was him.

He stood, drenched, in front of the house. The distance between us was
irrelevant; his golden eyes found mine.

"You came home," I murmured.

Through rain blowing sideways, Carlisle nodded once.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

Another slight nod. He knew.

I waited for a crash of thunder to move past before speaking again, for these
were the most important words of all.

"I love you," I said.

He knew this too. That had never been the problem.

"Come home," he whispered, as I was now the one lost in the storm.

---

Part 7: Survival

I walked slowly toward him through the driving water and fierce winds,
nervous over what was to come.

"Carlisle." His name fell softly from my lips when I reached the doorway
where he stood. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorr—"

He shook his head, silencing me.

Thunder crashed in the background as lightning split a nearby tree.

Wordlessly, he turned and I followed him in, out of the rain, and up to his
bedroom.

By the time I entered, he was standing at the bedroom window, gazing out at
the storm.

"Carlisle—"

Please stop, he thought, spinning around to face me.

I froze, unsure.

Carlisle watched my face for a moment before he stepped toward me.
Methodically, he began removing my wet clothing, his hands steady, unapologetic,
as he worked buttons free and peeled back the layers. Despite his task, however,
his fingers rarely brushed my bare skin; there were no caresses or kisses,
though my flesh longed for them.

When I was naked before him, my hair dripping down my neck and my skin still
damp, he set aside my clothing before turning back to study me. He walked around
me, looking over my body, likely searching for additional marks. Bites.

We were both scarred.

He walked over to his bureau and slowly removed his own clothing, the
material likewise soaked from the rain.

Undressed, he approached me, and brushed my hair back from my forehead.

I couldn't help myself; I leaned into his touch.

It was a mistake. He immediately released me.

Sit on the bed, he thought, and stood before me, studying me. The storm in his eyes rivaled the tempest outside our windows.

Abruptly, he turned away and went to open the windows. Rain poured in those
facing the west but I knew better than to protest.

Things were replaceable.

"Carlisle," I pleaded, as he watched the storm.

He turned and moved to his closet, retrieving a blanket to drape around my
shoulders. Taking another, he wrapped it around himself and then leaned against
the near wall.

"I'm sorry too," he finally spoke, softly. "I shouldn't have bitten you."

I raised my eyebrow.

He huffed. "Again. I shouldn't have bitten you again. Not like that.
That was...reprehensible, and I'm sorry. I lost my mind. I just...couldn't stand
the thought that he'd marked you."

I nodded. "He didn't mean anything."

"I know."

We lapsed into silence as the storm roared around us.

"Carlisle," I said, looking up at him. "I can't go back."

"I know."

"I don't want to," I continued. "I love you, and I always have, for so many
reasons and with my whole self—not just because you saved me."

He took a deep breath. "I know that too."

We paused as the wind whipped through the room, curling through the blanket I
held tightly around me.

"I don't know if I can," he admitted, looking up, his forehead creased.

"Will you try? I need you to at least try."

"I want to," he said softly.

I bit my lip. "Come here." I reached out my hand to him.

He studied me. "You want this?"

"Yes," I breathed. Always. Please. Forever. "But do you?"

Holding my gaze, he returned to the foot of my bed and took my face in his
hands. The blankets puddled at our sides forgotten as, without pause, he pressed
his lips to mine in a kiss that sent my still heart racing. It was everything
that should have always been, sweet hunger wrapped in the taste of my Carlisle.
His tongue met mine and I grabbed tightly to him, trying to hang on as the storm
raged.

Eager hands and mouths tried to be everywhere and feel everything. I fell
back to the bed, pulling Carlisle over me. I arched up into him, my body asking
for more of his weight, and he responded, pressing against me as our mouths met
in unending kisses, at last on the same page.

Passion swept aside pretense, and, always graceful, but even more needy, we
grasped and slipped and slid against each other, finally, forever, always,
please.

Releasing my lips, Carlisle knelt between my thighs and, motioning for me to
lie back on the bed, unapologetically bent my knees open until I was spread
before him. His gaze and the brush of the wind that swept through the windows
made my skin prickle and my mind race.

Mine.

I trembled as I watched him use his venom to slick himself, then proved
unable to hold back a gasp as he turned his attentions to preparing me. Finally,
with only the slimmest margin of control, he entered me, smoothly pressing into
my body, watching me as I read in his eyes everything I had always known to be
true.

I cried out as he claimed me, pulling me toward him, and began moving
exquisitely in my body. Lightning flashed, its brightness highlighting his
rolling musculature, and thunder echoed around us as he thrust into me, hard and
fast.

It was almost too much, the pleasure of being taken by my mate. Desperately,
I clung to his shoulders, begging for more—more of him, and more of his
heart.

Straining above me, he had to be as close to the edge as I. Perhaps he saw
how badly I needed all of him, or maybe his own need was too great to deny, but
he bent down and captured my mouth in a bruising kiss as he slid into me again
and again and again.

I came as he kissed me, shuddering between us, holding him tightly to me.

Another few snaps of his hips and he buried himself in me, roaring as he,
too, found his release.

After a final kiss, he collapsed beside me. As I peered into his golden eyes,
I could still see the storm raging inside of them. There was much to fix, but,
curling into his side and buoyed by our lovemaking, I dared to hope that maybe,
just maybe, we'd find our way.

xXxXx

Carlisle pried himself from my grasp not long after. He went to the window
and stared outside as the storm moved into the distance, the thunder rumbling
low from a distance. The rain carried by the wind coated his face and body
though, and when he finally turned back to me, I couldn't help but think the
droplets were his tears.

"Come here." I patted the bed beside me.

"I can't... not...not yet."

He went to the doorway and looked back, his eyes again cloudy and closed
off.

I love you, I just need some time, he thought, before turning and heading down the hall and out
through the front door and down to the beach.

I listened to the sound of his footsteps, soft on the dark pebbled sand.

Getting up, I went to the open window and watched him as he walked along the
ocean, blinking against the rain that still fell. His hair was messy from the
wind and water, his naked figure pale against the rocks.

He looked up and saw me at the window.

I have always loved you, he thought. Always.

The current carried his thoughts to me as he dove into the choppy surf and
began to swim out to sea. Then, as wind whipped through the air, all I heard was
silence but for the someday, someday, someday as it crashed rhythmically against the rocks.

I turned my face up to the sky and, with the clouds, wept a sea of rainy tears.

For me.

For him.

For the day when our forever would finally begin.

And for my heart, which, though stilled by his venom, refused to die.