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Columbus, Ohio
September 1911
The days blur together as summer fades away and a chill begins to fall on northern Ohio. Carlisle never fails to admire the beauty of God’s creation in these climes, watching the foliage transform into fiery shades of red and yellow and orange. Thoughts of orange drift to thoughts of perfect butterscotch curls and sparkling chocolate eyes… Carlisle shakes his head. “Inappropriate, Carlisle,” he mutters to himself as he steps away from the windows and the trees, distancing himself from memories of the young Miss Platt.
The distance is better, anyway. He already knows that his heart will be shorn when he leaves in a month’s time; no need to make that separation worse by letting his thoughts linger on the object of his affection. “Doctor Cullen? We’re ready for you.” He nods and follows the nurse into the operating room, grateful for the distraction his work provides.
Several hours later the surgery is complete. Carlisle steps outside, having showered and changed from his hospital attire. The blood moon shines overhead and Carlisle eyes the gang of men standing in its haunting light. He rests under the eaves of the hospital, far enough removed to not rouse human suspicion. “He’s done it this time!” “What’s he done now?” “Only gone and hired a crew from up in Michigan! Payin’ em twice as much for the ‘travel’ too.” “Goddamn traitor. Gonna sell his crop for triple the price now, I’ll bet every dollar I’ve got.” “What dollars? Ain’t got none now that we’re outta a job.” “This ain’t right. Someone oughtta do somethin’ about it.” “Like what? You gonna face up to Big Head Mr. Platt?” Carlisle stands closer to attention, interest peaked at the mention of Esme’s - no Carlisle, Miss Platt’s - father.
“Someone’s gotta! Or else what? The other farmers start followin’ suit and we’re all replaced by Michiganders?” “The Platts ain’t even from here! Where’d he come from? Buffalo? I ain’t given’ up five generations of hard work to some second-gen immigrants!” A murmur of agreement sounds among them before one man steps forward. “What if he can’t hire those crews anymore? What if they leave town?” “How’re you gonna manage that? Burn down his goddamn farm?” “Not the whole farm. Just the house. Leaves good land for us to farm long after he’s gone.” Silence falls as the men contemplate, and Carlisle’s fists clench. “Start somethin’ low and slow. Give em time to spook and run.” “And worst case? The bastard won’t be around to disrespect us no more.”
“Kenny’s got some new kindling, we’ll meet y’all there.” The crew climbs into their trucks and speeds off towards the Platt farm. Carlisle stands frozen, absorbing the plot he’s just unearthed. Fire. They’re going to set it on fire . He should do something, anything other than just standing here while his mind races a thousand different directions. He should run to the firehouse and alert the chief - but would he be there at midnight? And who would believe the strange visiting doctor? His mind continues to spin until it focuses on one singular thought: Esme.
Before his consciousness can catch up, his body has taken off running towards the farm. His body knows what it wants, and it wants her. Needs her. Needs to protect her with everything inside of him.
Carlisle is nearly at the farm, so close he can smell the tendrils of smoke, when the tolling of church bells freezes him in place. His mind battles with his heart; he can’t simply take her, can he? Should he interfere with the Lord’s destiny for her? Is his morality worth the cost of her life? Father, help me! If there is ever a moment he is convinced he still has a soul, it’s this one: when he would trade it all for her and give his soul and life for hers. Father, keep her safe!
There is a resounding crash and instinctively he runs. The farmhouse is engulfed in flames - Kenny’s kindling has raged out of the crew’s control. Carlisle strains but cannot hear any screams, any signs of life from within the home. Esme . Ignoring the imminent danger of the flames he climbs, his vampiric nature taking over as he shatters the highest bedroom window. Her sweet scent washes over him and his eyes darken, shadowed with lust for her blood and for his mate. His singer . Esme’s heartbeat flutters faintly as she lies unmoving in her bed. He traces his fingers over her pulse but still she does not wake, kept unconscious from the smoke inhalation.
“I am so sorry, Esme,” he whispers as he draws her from the bed into his arms, mindful of her healing leg. She wears nothing but a pale lace nightgown and her heat sears his chest. He spots an open diary on her desk and quickly grabs it, sliding it into a trouser pocket before he leaps out the broken window and lands lightly. With hardly a glance back at the burning building, he races towards his home on the far eastern outskirts of town.
Hours later and Esme is resting in his bed, still unconscious. He takes a wet cloth and runs it gently over her skin, cleansing the soot from her creamy complexion. He had left her alone for a brief time once she was settled; he desperately needed to feed, if he was to have her in his home, and he wanted to check on the fire. The farmhouse is no more and guilt sits heavy on his soul. There are no survivors. So this is his penance for defying the will of the Lord: he must break the heart of the woman he loves, shatter it into small pieces when he tells her that her family is gone.
A small cough sounds and immediately he turns to her. Esme’s chocolate eyes blink slowly open, surprise filling her pupils. “Doctor - Doctor Cullen?” “Hello, Miss Platt.” “Have I injured myself again?” She tries to laugh but coughs again, and he helps her sit up against the pillows. “Here, drink.” He hands her a glass of water and she drinks gratefully. “Gosh, my throat really burns. Am I ill?” Oh, if only , his mind sighs, the vampiric half reminded of its very desperate need to sink his fangs into her supple flesh and drink - “Doctor Cullen? Are you alright?” Her doe eyes gaze up at him in concern and he shakes his head. “Miss Platt, do you remember anything from last night?” “Last night? Um, Mama made pork and applesauce for dinner, and then I went to bed.” “And after that?” “No nothing, I was sleeping.” She turns her curious look from his face to the room, seeming to realize that she does not recognize her surroundings.
“This isn’t the hospital.” “No.” She sits up straighter, pinning him with her ever-piercing stare. “Doctor Cullen…” “Carlisle.” “What?” “Carlisle. Please, call me Carlisle.” “Carlisle,” she tests the name and his body floods with heat. Mine . “Esme… may I call you that?” She nods gently, gifting him a dazzling smile. His heart cracks. “Esme, something quite terrible has happened.” Her smile falls and he takes the chair beside the bed, holding out his hands towards her. Immediately, instinctively, her palms find his just as their eyes meet. “I do not wish to hurt you. But you deserve the truth, the full truth.” She nods again, this time with trepidation. “I trust you.” “You shouldn’t,” he mutters, almost too low for her human ears. “Miss Platt - Esme - there has been a fire.” “A fire? Where? Is everyone alright? Is that why my throat hurts?” Even in the midst of gloom he can’t help but give a sad smile at her inquisitive nature. “I’m afraid the fire was at your home, Esme. It’s gone.” A horrified gasp tears from her throat and a hand moves from his to cover her mouth. “Where is my family? Are they alright?” He is silent, heart shattering as he knows hers is about to do. “Carlisle? Where are they? Where is my family? Why aren’t they here? Carlisle” she breaks off with a strangled breath, tears falling heavy down her porcelain cheeks. His eyes meet hers again, finally, full of grief and sorrow. “I am so sorry, Esme.” Her tears strengthen into sobs and he stands, intending to give her privacy. Instead her fingers lock tighter around his, refusing to let go of him. “Please don’t leave me.”
Before he knows what he is doing, he sits on the bed behind her and pulls her into his lap. He cradles her caramel curls as she burrows into his chest to muffle her cries of anguish. He can feel hot tears seeping into his shirt but cannot bring himself to care. He murmurs apologies and promises, even daring to brush his lips along her hairline. “I am so sorry, Esme… please forgive me… I only want what’s best for you… I love you…”
Minutes turn to hours and still she stays curled against him. He knows he ought to care about the impropriety of this unmarried young woman being in his arms - in his bed! - but it only feels right, like she is exactly where she belongs. His vampiric instincts are muted, fairly satisfied by her proximity, though the most primal urges still whisper for him to bite her, claim her, mate her - “Carlisle?” He is drawn from his fantasies by a soft voice and even softer hand coming to rest on his cheek. “Yes, my love?” The endearment flows without thinking, and a blush paints her cheeks even as her chocolate eyes still swim with tears. “Where - where are we, if not at the hospital?” “Ah, this is my home.” “Oh.” She blushes more fiercely as she considers their current position. “So, this is your bedroom?” “Yes.” Silence lapses and he can almost hear the thoughts churning through her mind.
“Will there be a service?” “I would imagine so, yes.” She turns her gaze back to his, now full of determination. “There is so much to do. I must meet with the deacon, write letters to my aunts and uncles…” “Esme.” His voice catches her and she lets her list trail off. He brushes an unruly curl behind her ear, her eyes falling closed at the blissful feel of his fingers tracing her cheek. “Esme, you cannot go back into town. It is not safe.” Her eyes snap back open. “Why on earth not? I am the only one left, I must make arrangements…” “Esme.” Carlisle sighs, running his free hand through his golden hair. “You cannot go into town, because no one knows that you are alive.” “What on earth do you mean?” “The fact that I was able to rescue you is - unnatural. You would never have survived on your own. Everyone believes you perished with your family.” She flinches at his matter-of-fact explanation and he sighs. “I’m sorry, Esme. I’m afraid I saved your life only for you to be cursed with my existence.”
“How did you save me, then?” “I’m sorry?” “You said it was unnatural. How did you do it, then?” Carlisle shakes his head, disentangling himself from her and standing at the end of the bed. “I told you that you deserve the full truth. If it is too much, if you want to leave afterwards, I only ask that you do not go back to Columbus and you allow me to provide you money and other resources for your new life.” Her chocolate gaze is quizzical and she tilts her head, caramel curls falling down her shoulder. “I don’t understand.” He takes a large, wholly unnecessary breath. Without breaking her stare he blurts out, “I’m a vampire.”
Silence. Absolute silence as Esme gapes up at him. Her mouth opens and snaps shut in succession while she processes his revelation. “You’re a?” “Vampire, yes.” “Blood drinking, soul sucking?” “To some extent, yes.” “Then why am I still alive?” “I’m sorry?” She lifts herself off the bed and walks towards him, unaware of the inherent sensuality in her movements. Carlisle’s eyes darken and he takes a step back, primal lust pounding through him. “You’re a vampire, so you want to drink my blood. Yes?” “God yes.” He groans, venom pooling in his mouth. “So then why am I still alive?” She stands mere inches from him, hands resting on her hips as she arches an eyebrow in question. “You are playing a very dangerous game, Esme.” The words are a growl as they leave him. He expects her to flinch back in fear but instead her pupils dilate and she moves even closer. “Tell me, Carlisle.” Her hands come up to rest on Carlisle’s chest and he yanks her forward, losing full control and capturing her lips with his.
It is the greatest bliss, kissing Esme. One hand tangles in her hair while the other traces down her body. Carlisle latches an arm around her waist, well aware that nothing but flimsy lace hides her skin from his. One moment they are standing and the next he has them intertwined on his bed. He presses her more firmly into the mattress, breaking from her lips to trail down her neck. He nips at her pulse - bite, claim, mate - and she moans. “Carlisle, please, bite me!” Her desperate words shock his system and he rips away, chest panting as he stands on the other side of the bedroom. Esme’s nightgown is pushed up on her thighs and her skin is flushed with arousal. “I - do not ask that of me.” “Don’t you need to feed?” “Yes Esme, but not on you. I drink the blood of animals.” “Is that - usual for a vampire?” Carlisle chuckles, shaking his head. “I assure you, I am quite the oddity.” She giggles before falling silent.
They stay in contented quiet before she asks another question. “So what happens now?” He slowly walks back towards her, sitting on the bed and intertwining their fingers. “You, my love, have a decision to make.” “Which is?” “Choose a city and I will give you everything you need to start a new life for yourself. You will need to pretend to be slightly older, of course.” “And what is my other option?” Carlisle captures her gaze, molten chocolate meeting liquid gold. “Stay with me.” He quickly continues, needing her to understand exactly what she is choosing. “I cannot stay anywhere too long; it arouses suspicion when I do not age and do not attend many social events. We would constantly be on the move. I would provide everything we need, and anything you desire. I am afraid it can make for quite a lonely lifestyle.” “But we would be together?” “Yes. For as long as you so wish.” “Forever?” He hesitates and Esme arches a brow at him.
“Could you change me to be like you?” Carlisle sighs, continuing his nervous habit of raking a hand through his hair. “Esme, love, you are so young…” “And?” “And I would hate to feel I am taking your life away from you. You have so much more to live for.” She frowns, all but glaring at him. “What do I have to live for? You are all I have left!” A sob wrenches from her and she scrunches her eyes closed. He presses a kiss to her forehead, drawing her back into his embrace. “How about we make a deal?” “I’m listening.” Carlisle chuckles, kissing her again. “You are 16. In less than two years time, you will be 18 and considered an adult all throughout the world. If at that point you still have not changed your mind, I will turn you.” "And then we will be together forever?” Their eyes lock, both filled with hope and love. “Yes, Esme, forever.” “Well then I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.” “And what is that?” She loops her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. “Get married!”
Fin.