la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

Eighty

There Carlisle was left standing, in the warm wash of rain that clashed against his natural temperature. He was utterly dumbstruck and remained standing in the place she'd left him until his shoes had begun to sink in the mud. He'd tilted his face toward the sky, feeling every raindrop as it pattered against his skin, he could almost imagine the relief of crying.

He didn't know why. He didn't want to at all but he knew that was irresponsible. It was something drastic enough for her to leave on the instant and grave enough that Edward would agree she should. It was miraculous that things would always unfold to be worse than his worst case scenario.

He thought, he still thought, that it was just a bit of what it had been before. It was his mistake, his oversight. He'd once again invaded her privacy— rather accidentally aided and abetted this time. How on earth it had slipped his mind to mention the gifts was beyond him. His and Minerva's conversations had been founded on catching up since they'd started speaking again, trading stories and getting to know one another properly this time. How didn't it come up that his son was a mindreader? That another could feel and manipulate emotion? God, she didn't even know about Jasper yet and that wasn't going to help his case at all.

"Please, come inside, Carlisle." A voice called softly, drawing his eyes from the stars.

He took a deep breath, grimacing up at the moon. He didn't respond but he started to move, one foot after another with more focus than he usually needed. A puddle of water began forming at his feet the minute he stepped from the rain, glancing around with dejected eyes. Edward had sent Bella home, a smart decision. The fact that he hadn't accompanied her did nothing for Carlisle's nerves. He hadn't even heard her truck groan to life and creep away.

He didn't want to hear it, not really. Whatever it was, he wanted to hear it from her lips, the way he should have if he'd ever learned it at all.

They all regarded him warily, waiting around the dining table. Wasn't it just an hour or so ago that they'd made a remark about how nice it was to be around the table without a fight? Minerva once called that DumbFuck's Law— when you say something and serendipity jinxes you. A little crass for his everyday lexicon but he really understood it now.

Carlisle stepped forward, shoes muddy and squishing across the linoleum. They were waiting for him to speak,"Alright." He placed his hands on the back of a chair, leaning his weight on it as if it were too much to bear. That's where she'd been sitting, that earthy scent still hung in the air. He looked at Edward expectantly, "Is it something.." he heaved a sigh, "that I absolutely need to know?"

Edward closed his eyes a moment before he nodded, "Yeah." He said softly, "It's pretty.. it's not good. I think it's er— It's probably better you hear it from me than from her Carlisle."

"Why's that?" He couldn't keep the bite out of his tone. It wasn't Edward's fault he'd heard it or Edward's fault that Minerva had left. The whole situation made him want to tear out every last strand of his hair.

"Because she had no intention of telling you." Carlisle's eyes lowered to the table top. "She knew eventually you'd find out but she wasn't going to tell you, Carlisle."

The chair back was straining under his grip, his fingerprints would soon be dented into the stain. He was taking great care to breathe, in, hold, out. She wasn't going to tell him. Sure. That was Minerva, though. She played her cards close to her chest; that was fine.

"Look.." Edward said with a wince, "I don't know Minerva as well as you do, I don't but I've spent this evening listening to the most fascinating mind I've ever heard." Carlisle hadn't even been conscious of rolling his eyes and Edward added, "Honestly."