la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

53

For someone who didn't sleep, Carlisle still did a lot of dreaming. Of course, they were of the daydream variety, his wildest dreams occurring in full consciousness. Minerva was, more often than not, their subject. He had his fair share of nightmares as well; in fact, he was living one.

Of all the times he'd imagined finally revealing the secret to her, he hadn't considered that the option might be taken away. That it would be her life or death to make the decision. No matter what, he could make the choice a hundred times, the choice would always be her life.

Only his most catastrophic considerations had Minerva reacted like this. He knew she'd be frustrated but this was something else. She could hardly look at him, as if turning her eyes on him was too much. When she wasn't looking at him, he was pleading for her eyes but the minute she did, he wished she'd look away again.

There was so much distrust held in the clouds of her eyes. He'd been foolish enough to hope her anger would lose some of its fire in their time apart. When she passed on talking to him on the phone, he knew that wouldn't be the case.

The days spent in the hospital with Bella were agony, spent pacing back and fourth relentlessly. Edward was being foul, justifiably upset by his partner's near death. Talking to him had been a useless endeavour, they'd been in tense silence for days only broken by the occasional rant Edward set himself on.

"Just ask Carlisle." Edward mumbled miserably, sitting up on the couch across from Bella's bed. Carlisle had been perched in the corner, with his hand over his mouth lost in thought. His brows furrowed when he was addressed, he hadn't been thinking about asking Edward before his train of thought had been broken. "You want to know what she was thinking."

He had wanted to know that, desperately. Asking had never come to mind, it felt like an invasion of her privacy. However, now that the opportunity had presented itself, he was dying to know.

"Is there any redemption for me?" Carlisle asked, his voice was hardly there from lack of use.

"She was conflicted." Edward responded, "She thought about never seeing you again and then couldn't hear the thought, so I don't think it's hopeless." It did little to make him feel better, "She feels like you betrayed her."

Carlisle nodded a little bit, it was about what he'd suspected. It didn't make hearing it hurt any less, "There was something odd." Edward added after a moment of silence, "When we were laying out the plan, she was completely checked out." He hesitated gauging his next words, " I think lighting the fire on James did something to her."

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked, crossing his arms.

"How long did it take her leg to heal, after the car crash?" Edward posed.

Carlisle considered it, "A week for it to completely heal."

"You thought she was dead when you got there." Edward noted, "After she lit the fire, it was like nothing happened."

"I think it was using the magic that did it." Carlisle deflected, though his mind showed the doubt of his own words loud and clear. He hadn't been able to shake the sound, her bones cracking back into place as she set the blaze. It was horrifying, even by his standards to see the full capacity of her accelerated healing.

"I just.." Edward hesitated, looking down at his hands, "I know you've already thought it, I can hear it in the back of your head." Carlisle's lips pulled down in a severe frown. "You might not know her as well as you think you do."

"If you know I'm already thinking it—" Carlisle said pushing himself off the wall, "I can't imagine why you feel the need to say it."

That had put a full stop on Minerva-talk but the thought only increased. When the time came, Carlisle was ready to be out of the hospital but the idea of getting home wasn't appealing in the slightest.