Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight Series. (Esme's POV)
—:—An Angel In The Mist—:—
"Amor isn't logical."—Fabrizio, Titanic (Deleted Scene)
My fingers gingerly cupped the doorknob, and after skimming through the many contemplated thoughts scurrying about my troubled mind, I decided upon twisting the metal. Inhaling an unnecessary breath, I stepped into his office, already strangling myself with the fact that I hadn't gained permission. However, I was already situated by the door; the wood shutting quietly behind me. Carlisle, in all his handsomeness and beauty, sat on a plush chair, leafing through a stack of papers. His eyes snapped up to meet mine—a pool of endless gold.
"Esme." His voice flooded through my system. "Is everything okay?"
If I were a human, my heart would have surely hitched at his simply concerned question. Recollecting my thoughts, I nodded once; as though my lips were wired shut. Feebly tucking back the caramel tresses framing my face, I sauntered slowly over to him. There was a reason I was in here, I reminded myself. Carlisle's eyes were distressed—immensely troubled, and Edward had informed me of an event that occurred in the office.
"I'm alright," I proclaimed softly, "But it's you I'm worried about."
For a moment, he seemed to have gone rigid, but hastily, he recomposed himself and leaned against the chair; his eyebrows pulling together as confusion mingled with his stressed emotional turmoil. How is it that I can so easily catch the torment he was going through? It was a question that snared my thoughts, especially because I was able to understand Carlisle, but Edward… his story was on an entirely different plane.
"I'm okay, Esme," he assured, his smile forming, but a slight falter laced through his tone—a falter my sensitive ears caught before it had time to vanish. But his brilliant smile mixed with the beams of sunlight leaking into the room was a magnificent sight that temporality eliminated the purpose of actually bringing myself into this room. My concern and affection for him hurriedly diminished this distraction.
"Are you?" I challenged quickly.
"Edward told me of some event that occurred in the hospital just several hours again," I intervened, leveling the anxiety in my voice, "And I clearly saw the distress on your face when you first came home. Carlisle, if something is wrong, you can tell me…" My palm rested on the polished desk as I stared at him, not at all tearing my gaze away. "I promise Carlisle, you can tell me."
An unreadable emotion flickered across his eyes, momentarily blinding the distress, before he gave an exasperated, defeated sigh that caused a stir of triumph to bubble in my chest. Pulling up an extra chair, I sat beside him, my legs crossed as I waited. A pang of hurt swirled through my mind when he leaned away from me, truly taken off guard. I'm being too bold and pathetic, I scolded.
"I don't know what happened," Carlisle began in a melodic, solemn voice, "I've seen death for so many years"—I was reminded of the long amount of time he's been immortal—"but how pathetic am I when I can't even stand to see someone die? Three children, not even around the age of ten, had all been diagnosed with small pox. I was so committed to saving them, that throughout these weeks, I diluted myself into thinking that there was no way in this world that these innocents could be taken away.
"Of course, in a matter of hours, they had each passed away together. I suppose I'm so used to be some superhuman creature that death still doesn't do well on me. Now"—he motioned to the file of papers—"I'm trying to figure out if there was any way I could have continued their lives. Am I that weak that I can't accept that they've died?" He rubbed his temples; his eyes remaining closed.
Without thinking, my hand had landed on his thigh, and his whole body stiffened under my gentle touch. "That's not pathetic or weak at all," I whispered, honest, "I'm so surprised that even after so many years of seeing death, as you've claimed, that it's still able to affect you in this way. You're so human—so vulnerable to emotions, that I'm sure such a simple trait such as the compassion in you is what sets you apart from every other vampire."
Again, my hands moved in automatic—moving upward to cup his hard cheek. His palm hovered above that hand as he smiled weakly at me, a gesture that sent me into a giddy state of mind. "Thank you, Esme," he murmured, his fresh breath mingling with mine. However, it was then that I noticed that I was touching his cheek, and with a start, I slid fluidly to my feet and scrambled for the door. The chair had nearly been toppled over in my haste to escape from the childish embarrassment boiling through me.
"You're welcome," I whispered, just as my fingers once again curled around the cold doorknob.
My name tore from his lips into a sweet sound. My eyes widened drastically when his pale hand covered my own, halting me from opening the door. His other hand rested on my hip; clutching the diamond flesh and wrinkling the hem of my silk shirt. "Wait," he murmured into my ear, sending a pleasurable wave spiraling down my arms and back and legs. I could feel the weakness in my legs begin to consume my balance.
"Really, Esme… Thank you."
Both his hands slowly turned my body around to face him. When I stared up, his honey-gold orbs were staring into me, rendering me weak and powerless at the spot. Mechanically, my hands traced up his chest, past muscles, and he cupped my cheeks in his own sturdy hands. Just as I wound my arms around his neck, he had closed his eyes at the moment I did. Our lips pressed together in unison, gentle and sweet as the tender passion latched onto us. His grip on my waist tightened, and I could feel my fingers running through his silky tendrils of blonde hair.
"Oh, God," he murmured, as though tormented. The kiss remained soft, even as his ice-cold tongue ran across mine, triggering more pleasant emotions coursing through my once granite body—once, because now, I was as weak as a human, unable to cope with the desire and love I knew I had felt for him since the first time I opened my eyes: entering a new life as an immortal inhuman being.
"Esme," Carlisle mumbled against my neck, his lips glazing the skin. I moved my hands away, but kept them placed on his chest. He brushed back the fallen strands of hair; all so he could gaze deeply into my eyes. "I-I don't… know what to say." Inhaling a long proportion of air, he continued, this time less staggered: "I don't know what's you done to me, but ever since I brought you into this family… Even the sight of you made me weak to my knees. Esme, even my heart, which no longer beats, felt as if it was beating against my chest. And—"
My finger pressed against his lips, silencing him, and smiling kindly, I balanced on my toes and whispered, "Carlisle, I love you… so much."
His lips carved into a crooked smile. "I love you, Esme."
It was a declaration to be forever etched into our lives—a declaration proving that since the first time I reopened my eyes in the mist of everything, both of us had found an angel to love and care for. Tilting my head, I spread my hand through his hair again, pulling him forward, and pressed my lips to his, this time taking more thought into mulling over the kiss rather than what it meant.
AN: I've always wanted to right a Carlisle/Esme story. Anyway, the perfect song for them would be "Somewhere" by Within Temptation. Honestly, it describes them easily, and it's where I came up with the title. Listen to it!