This is my first Twilight story, so I hope you all go easy on me. For those of you who are following my other stories, know that this isn't what I promised you. I'm just trying to get my creative juices flowing again. Anyway, I'm pretty sure you all can figure out when this takes place. With that said, please enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Twilight or anything pertaining to it. I'm just an obsessed freak that wants to capture Peter Facinelli.

XX

Beacon on a Road Less Traveled

Three days? Three days was nothing. If I could have made a choice between the physical pain of the transformation and the sickening, everlasting torment that I felt eat at my still heart, I would have taken the former any day. In reality, I was no more different than what I had been: cold, weak, and dead.

As I touched my belly, I wondered if what he had given me was a blessing or a curse. After what I had gone through, walking and yet not living with the terrible memory forever was a sad alternative to the peacefulness and certainty of death. At least then I would have been with the one that I would always love, the one that hadn't been given a chance. It was like passing through time, this life was, like a shadow, observing and feeling without the opportunity to know.

Was this what I was fated to? Did I have a fate? Or was it just perpetual existence with nothing before my feet?

An unnaturally cool hand touched my face, and I recoiled. Not because I disliked this man, but because I knew I was like him. We were the same.

"Esme," He said softly. I could not believe that was my name. It was too beautiful coming from his lips. Again, he said my name, and I wanted to block my ears so I couldn't hear his perfection, "Esme, you still cry."

I looked into his golden eyes, the only thing that was different between us. Mine were red, and he explained to me why. I didn't understand, and that was what frightened me. He was moral, he was right, but I was not. Although he and his companion had been helping me adjust, it was so unbearably difficult. The scent was so tempting, so right, that I could not fathom the amount of time it must have taken him to reach such indifference towards it.

But I would do it. Not for myself, but for him. Everything was for him.

This man was meant to be with me, I was sure of it. When I still had my fate, he had been there to help me, and now he was back again. Like a breath of fresh air, he was my release and my support. Like the wind in my hair, he was always there and always would be until the end of time. What was a childhood dream had become something so much more real.

"Esme?"

There was worry etched on his face as he knelt before me. I was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down my face; his resemblance to a lost dog right then was enough to distract me. I knew I was part of the problem, for he had exhausted all of his resources in order to make me happy.

"I'm alright," I answered finally, wincing when my voice cracked. We may have been the same, but I felt so much less. My answer was not enough for him, as his frown deepened. I felt worse.

"You do not look it," He said, touching my cheek again. If only he knew what that did to me. At this moment, I was glad I didn't have a heart beat; if I had, I knew it would be pounding out of my chest.

"I'm alright," I repeated, then felt like an idiot not two seconds afterwards. Was that all I could come up with? There had to be better words, better lies, to use. I offered him a small smile that probably only confirmed his suspicions that something was wrong.

I heard him sigh and his head fell in defeat, "I am sorry, Esme. If I had known, if I had had any idea that the consequences of my decision would have led to this, I may have let you rest in peace."

"Don't say that," I said, watching him in earnest, "Nothing is your fault. You did what you thought was right, what was best for me."

"But was it best?"

I hesitated. I knew my answer without thinking, but could I say it to his face? The very thought was intimidating, and I was afraid. Afraid he would reject me and leave me to become the monster that I naturally should have been. That would have been the ultimate undoing of me. However, I could not hide it forever without it being noticeable. I had a feeling his companion realized it, but was simply too decent to mention it.

"What is best," I started with the hope that my voice wasn't shaking as much as I thought it was, "Is that you are here for me."

Maybe I imagined it, but his mood shifted. Gently, he touched my hand that was still resting on my belly, and asked, "For you?"

I didn't understand at first. It took me a moment to grasp what he had meant, but when I did, I immediately rejected the notion. There was no possibility that he felt the same as I did for him. I wasn't sure how I translated his words to mean this, but I did, and I knew I could easily deny or confirm his question with two simple words.

"With me."

They slipped out without my thinking. Two words that had no meaning, but in this moment they meant the world. Would they mean the same to him? I could only hope so, otherwise our immortal existence was about to get rougher.

But at this moment, there did seem to be a glimmer of hope in this world of darkness. Like a moth to a flame, I had been drawn to his warmth, only to be blinded by the beauty and perfection that he was. It was at that moment that everything seemed to work, that the world spun only for us, as he closed the distance between us. His lips on mine were cold, and yet they ignited a fire in my chest; hard, and yet gentler than the brush of a butterfly's wing. At that moment, I knew that my fate was still there, still present, just leading me down a path less traveled. One that was shed with less light.

And Carlisle was my beacon.

XX

That was certainly different than anything I've written before, but the change really helped. Thank you all for reading, and please review. :)

Until Next Time,

Manwathiel