la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

22

It was about a week before Carlisle saw Minerva again. Research told him the saturnalia had begun and he decided to visit. A gift rested on the passenger seat, Alice had helped him pick it out and assured it was exactly on par with what she had gotten him. It was carefully wrapped in patterned snowflake paper. He knew it was early but given that Christmas wasn't her thing and gift giving was a portion of her celebration, he figured it wouldn't matter.

The house looked different when he pulled into her familiar drive way. Darker, somehow in spite of it being the middle of the day. When she answered the door, he found she resembled the house in that way. There were dark circles under her tired eyes. She was dressed in a big sweatshirt with sweatpants, he knew she was expecting him so he couldn't help but be a little surprised. He'd never seen her dressed down before. Even still, her lips spread into a smile. "Hello." She said, moving aside to let him in.

"Hello." He responded, shaking snowflakes out of his hair as he slipped his shoes off. "I know it's early.." Carlisle said, holding out the gift, "but happy saturnalia."

"You didn't have to get me anything, you fool." She chided, setting the present down on the counter. "Don't move." She disappeared down the hall and came back with two presents, wrapped without precision but with two golden bows on top. "Lucky I found more than one thing that made me think of you. I was trying to even us out."

"Alice tattled." He said with a shrug, accepting the gifts. The top one was more cube shaped while the lower one was a rectangle. "Do I shake it?"

"You can but the paper might give up if you do." She says, stepping around the counter. Her eyes never meet his, he can tell by the altered scent of her blood that she's had a couple drinks. "On 3?"

"Sure."

"One, two.. three." They both tear into their gifts, Minerva let's the paper hit the floor while Carlisle carefully makes sure every scrap is on the counter. He started with the cube, unsheathing it to reveal it was in fact a box, a very nondescript box. He popped the tape open to peer inside, finding it filled with books. His heart sang. His golden eyes peeked at her to find her staring down at her gift with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he feared Alice had been wrong. 'I see her loving it.' The clairvoyant had claimed. It wasn't the first time she was wrong.

"Is this.." she whispered, eyes narrowed, "A Keats manuscript?" Her eyes moved up to his, widening. "You're insane."

"You don't like it?" He worried.

"You're insane and stupid." She breathed out, "This is.. insane!" A smile, bright and shining, appeared on her face. "How the hell did you get this?"

"I have some friends at Yale." He said, trying not to make it sound crazy, "They were going to auction it and they called to see if I wanted it." It was a bold faced lie but she didn't see through it for a second. He began to pick through the dusty books in the box, commenting and commending each one he came across until he came to the bottom to an especially old looking one. "Faust." He commented, lifting of out as if it would crumble under touch, "I love Goethe." First looks told him it was extremely old.

"It's not the original." She mumbled, "It's an early edition though."

"Now, you're insane. Why wouldn't you keep this for yourself?" He said, opening the cover gingerly.

"Because I got it for you." Minerva replied, "I couldn't find anything out about the second one. I just know they're old and up your alley."

Carlisle had almost forgotten about the second gift, too wrapped up in the splendour of new books to remember it's existence. He unwrapped it, brown furrowing at the shiny case he was beheld with. That certainly wasn't old. "There's clasps on the side." She muttered, glancing out the window. He glanced up at her, frowning slightly. Something was definitely wrong, he just wasn't sure what.

His hands maneuvered to the clasps, unlocking them and guiding the cover up with his palms. He inhaled sharply, a mistake he found when it made his throat burn with need. Brass tools stared up at him from the velvet case. An old, old stethoscope and mirror. Ancient ortoscopes and scalpels, even a little saw which only could have been used for god know's what.

"Holy." He breathed out, "Did you know I collect these?" Her eyes came back to him then and she shook her head.

"I asked Alice if you'd like them and she just said you would. She didn't elaborate." She chewed on the inside of her cheek slightly, denting it from the outside, "She was right then?"

"Extremely." He said, not daring touch the tools with his bare hands but leaning closer to analyze them, "These are magnificent. Thank you so much."

"It's the least I could do." She hummed taking a drink from her glass, "I'm glad you like them."

The silence, which was usually perfectly comfortable, felt oddly tense. He couldn't help himself. "Is everything okay?"

"Hm? Oh." She rubs the back of her neck, still avoiding his eyes. "I'm okay. I'm just not feeling good. A lot of energy in the air and I don't do anything with it but direct it into the plants. Besides, I don't like winter."

"It'll be spring before you know it." He says, unsure of what else to say. He clears his throat a little, "Is there anything I can do?"

For a moment, she doesn't answer. It's the briefest instant in which she's staring into her drink as if it'll give her the answer. "No, it's just something that'll go away on its own." She turns to the fridge then and his suspicions are confirmed when a near empty bottle of rum comes out to slosh into the cup. She tops it off with some cola. Carlisle can't help but wonder just how much she drinks. If it's after 5, chances are her blood is tainted with the scent of alcohol. It worries him but he's certainly in no position to judge. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Though, the hospital may shoot me if I don't get going." He admits though not a single part of him has any desire to leave her alone. It's odd, to have so much trust between two people and no way to navigate it in a way that helps. His attempt to make Rosalie see reason had ended in shouting, she wouldn't know his secret for a long time. He wished he could wrap her in his arms and vanquish every negative feeling she had. There was nothing more he'd like to do than curl up on her couch and watch some stupid movie until she fell asleep, alcohol unneeded to sedate her pains.

"Of course." Minerva sighs softly, "Thank you again for the manuscript. I think it's the coolest thing I own and that's saying something."

"You'll have to show me the top ten cool things next time." Carlisle says, watching her face carefully as she nods. "When?" He poses.

"Maybe after Christmas?" She suggests and it looks like it pains her, "I was thinking.. it's better you don't see me during the crossover. I've spent that time alone for the last couple decades; gods only know what I'm like."

"Whatever you're most comfortable with." Carlisle says gently, "I'll see you Boxing Day, then?"

A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth, "Boxing Day, it is."

A pit had formed in his stomach, threatening to swallow him whole as he left her house. His senses screamed at him to go back but he persisted, a frown etched into his marble features.

Weird was the only word to describe that. That sinking feeling was pulling him down. As if come Christmas, she would be gone. He dismissed it as best he could. It was just the energy in the air, that was all. He debated calling into work and whipping the car into reverse but he didn't, Minerva would question him and counter all his worry with logic.

His curiosity was driven wild wondering exactly what she meant by the change during the crossover. 'I could sink California into the Ocean if I wanted. Activate the San Andreas Fault.' She'd said, as casually as if she were talking about her breakfast. What exactly was she capable of? What the hell would invoking her anger do to someone?

He trusted her with his entire being but even the wonder sent a shiver down his spine. Divine was definitely the right word for her.