la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

73

Minerva had spent the bulk of her morning torturing herself. Trying to decide whether or not she was going to go through with what she already knew she was. Around noon, she finally picked up the phone.

She expected at least three rings, a chance to change her mind. It was barely half of one before his voice banished her nerves. "Are you okay?"

"What— Why wouldn't I be okay?" Minerva asked absentmindedly stacking the books that had scattered across her coffee table.

"I— Well, you're calling me." Carlisle said after a moment.

"Nothing gets past you."

"I just— I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I figured.. I don't know." He let out a slightly exasperated laugh and she couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I'm done being angry— now I'm curious." She sunk down into the couch, kicking her feet up in the newly cleared space. "I have three hundred some-odd years of the Carlisle show to get caught up on."

For a second, there wasn't even static on the other line. Just pure stillness. "Really?" He asked in a breath.

"Yes, really. I'm nosy." She was trying to wipe the stupid look off her face but it wouldn't budge. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight!" He exclaimed, "Dear me, you are forward."

"Oh, shut up." She laughed, "Are you free or not?"

"Just tell me when you want me there." He replied easily, "and I'll be on your doorstep." She peddled her feet absentmindedly.

"Say five?"

"Five, it is." She could practically see the stupid smile on his face, it was there in his voice. "Have your questions ready."

"I've got an itemized list."

He laughed lightly, "I'll see you soon."

"See you." She snapped her phone shut and pressed it to her mouth. God, she was far gone. So far gone she'd looped back to down right fucking evil. Evil always had been easier than being good, she should have seen it coming. He'd hate her when he found out what she was. He'd loathe even the ground she walked on. Still, here she was pushing her luck and pulling him closer.

The lines were so blurred she couldn't tell who it was a cruel joke on.

It was his turn to be the fool but when all was said and done, he'd have the comfort of his family and forget about her by the season's end. And what would she have? Sick satisfaction of a settled score and the cold assurance that her stint of being a good person was just that. A stint.

In spite of it all, Minerva was desperate for the clock to strike five. How ironic it was that nothing could chase away this feeling but Carlisle himself. Her one way ticket to the great abyss. Her crimes against humanity fell null to this crime against him and everything he stood for.

Was this how he'd felt maintaining his deception? This pulled apart at the seams? This agony? She almost doubted it. Not because she doubted he'd felt but because he'd been so justified. She cringed to even think the word.

The list was all but itemized. She hadn't been able to sleep last night, her mind buzzing with questions to drown out the thrum of her guilty conscience. She'd made it sound so casual to call him up, like she hadn't agonized over it since he left.

When the clock flicked from 4:59 to 5:00, there was a knock on her door. "Punctual or a kiss ass?" She muttered to herself with a chuckle as she headed for the door.

As she opened it, a small smile automatically lifted her lips. "I heard that." He told her, "The answer is a little of both."

Minerva laughed lightly, closing the door behind her. "I figured." She replied as the kettle began to whistle. "Do you want—" she stopped, pursing her lips. "You don't." Carlisle's eyebrows lifted at her, "A cup of tea."