Third Movement: Rebirth

DC: I don't own Twilight

Esme felt the heat.

The fall was interesting, and the seemingly long distance felt short and almost two quick for the pain she felt of the death of her newborn. She saw the crashing waves; she saw the small bit of land before the lake; she heard the inviting wind that sang in her ears. Her arms spread out. Maybe she would just fly up into the sky without the pain of her body breaking while crashing into the hard earth. Just another kiss of death, she remembered thinking to herself as the ground came up to meet her.

Esme felt the heat.

Maybe when she crashed with her kiss of death she just kept going on into the fiery pit. Was this why her arm twitched and her neck burned like fires were licking her skin? She concentrated on the burning. Her arm and neck were the worst. It felt like poison was spreading out through her veins, attacking everything in its sight. She felt sick to her stomach, as if she could just roll over and cry. The poison seeped through her making her legs quake and her toes curl in agony. The poison reached into her hip, digging in like needles stuck an inch through. She gasped and let the pain roll over her. Was this what she deserved when the hospital was the one who drove her into the fire?

She felt her heart quicken.

Was this right? Shouldn't her heart have stopped in the plunging mess? She weakly placed the hand that hadn't felt the toxin on top of her chest. It was still there, the beat. Her brow furrowed, bringing pain to her neck; restarting the path down to her legs and hips. She was confused. Death meant not living. Her heart should have stopped. Maybe she shouldn't be able to move her hands or curl her toes in agony either?

Pain hit her double in the hand that lay over her heart. She took another deep breath in. She wouldn't be able to breathe in death. She didn't dare open her eyes, though more gasps and burning moans left her mouth. She let her back arch, and her arms crash down. Maybe she should invite it. Perhaps she lived through the fall, and this was drowning, though she clearly remembered hitting the sand and dirt ground rather than the cold lake. Maybe some poor living soul saw her fall, and pushed her in water to make things easier. Maybe she'll thank that person as a spirit that haunts the cliffs of Ashland.

She let the pain consume her thoughts. It scratched her face till she thought it was bleeding. As she moved from the pain, the poison caught in her neck again and again, sending it through her veins. She cried out, louder and louder as the pain hit her more.

It was sudden cold on both sides of her hot skin. She twisted towards it, thirsting for its touch. It did finally touch her after what seemed like years of agonizing waiting. Her forehead first, then, gently, her arms. She was almost pinned, but didn't mind. It didn't hurt as much when the cold hit her skin. She settled a little in her ache.

Was I like this? So…trembled?

The voice was cool, smooth. Her back arched again, the pain hitting her ears not letting her hear the response, and she was gently pushed back down. She let out another gasp. The cold wasn't helping the searing burn. She writhed in torture as the poison seemed to push against her. She let out a wail and held her eyes tighter.

Why does the venom burn?

Esme didn't hear any answer. It seemed as if the one person was just talking to himself or the other was whispering, maybe just nodding or shaking its head. She didn't care for too long, though. Instead, she started chanting to herself to just die. She couldn't take it. The pain seeped through her skin, suffocating her. The people around her must have done it, she resolved. She must have been alive, still, when she fell. They took her and are experimenting on her. They were killing her.

She didn't care. As long as she was dying, it settled well in her mind. Esme let out another gasp as the burn succeeded to make more searing agony in her arm and neck. Her heart pumped in and out.

It's been two days. Is it over?

Two days, Esme managed to scream in her silent head. Her brain pounded against her skull, racking more pain. How long was the venom taking to kill her? She screamed. The worst of the pain seemed to be meeting. The venom, as the mystery people called it, came from both of the wounds from the left and the right, crashing, burning her insides. It gripped her heart in its hot hands and squeezed hard. Cold bands gripped her wrists and caught her ankles. Perhaps they were getting rid of her body at last? Letting her die in the dark alone and unwanted.

The cold grasps lasted until the final shudder came from her chest. Esme was still thinking; still breathing hard. She tried to figure out what exactly felt wrong. She didn't dare move as her breathing stilled. She willed herself not to breathe. She let all the air out of her lungs and waited.

No pain. The last of the burning seemed to die away. Nothing felt wrong. In fact everything felt right. Everything felt normal. More than normal.

Why didn't her lungs burn with the desire for oxygen?

She let herself take in a breath. She smelled two distinct things, one more sweet than the other.

Is it over? the voice repeated. She's stopped screaming and thrashing.

How long had it been over? Esme rolled her eyes in her head, wondering what was wrong. Something in her wasn't right. She couldn't remember her past needs; as if her whole past life was in black and white and, even though her eyelids were closed, the present was colorful, more beautiful than ever.

"I think it's over. Edward, give her some room."

That voice, however more musical and lovely than it was before. Esme knew it and must not have been able to hear it earlier. She didn't want to open her eyes. Was it all just a dream?

"She's refusing to open her eyes." There came a soft chuckle from her left, though it was more like a song. "She thinks it's just a dream."

Esme almost gasped. He knew what she thought! She would have known it was rude, if she wasn't so intrigued by the realization. Perhaps she should take a look. But what was wrong, what was different?

"She's confused. She can't figure out what is different about her."

"She should know nothing at all is wrong—"

Esme opened her mouth to say something about the privacy of her mind, but realized she had no air to make her vocal cords work. That's when she found out was wrong; what felt different in her; what she didn't hear.

"My heart," Esme whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, slamming colors into her vision. Her eyes searched down in front of her, trying to take it all in. She was in a small room. It was dark, though the sun that almost hid behind the clouds peeked in through the thick window curtains. She could see every little particle that floated in the air and every little crack in the perfect white wall in front of her. The footfalls of people outside on the streets rang inside the room as if they were right in front of her. The smell of fresh rain and something sweet hung over her. Esme lifted her eyes up and locked into the golden ones looking down.

He was just as beautiful—no, even more so—than what she remembered. His golden hair was kept neat and orderly. Every arc and point in his smooth face registered into her mind as the man she had met, and never forgot about. Her eyes were already tracing and memorizing the smooth curve of his lips. He smiled at her. Esme memorized that too.

"Doctor Carlisle Cullen." She almost forgot to breathe, making herself gasp at the end. He smiled more showing his teeth. The white, straight, perfect smile made Esme mesmerized. There was a sudden relief that filled her, and she was afraid to know why. He laid a soft hand on her face. She moved her hand, though too quickly. She made a noise when she noticed she was moving really fast. She hurdled herself out of the makeshift bed she was laying on, and wrapped her arms around her.

Esme's eyes never left Carlisle as she did this. The young man, who stood across from her, cocked his head a little; his damp red-brown hair moving silkily with his movements. He must have just come from outside. Esme noticed the leftover smell of rain that came retreating from the window. She almost hated the way she noticed things, and concentrated harder on her thoughts.

It looked as though the young man was going to say something, but Carlisle put a hand on his shoulder. Carlisle stepped closer to her, a little slowly. "Don't worry."

"I won't worry." Esme didn't let her arms fall though. She was still trying to figure out was really going on.

"Will you let me explain?"

Esme searched his face. He looked very sincere. He didn't look like he was going to hurt her. He held out his hand. Esme didn't hesitate to let her hand fold into his. She laughed to herself. A perfect fit. The young man looked at them both. Esme felt she would have blushed, though she knew somehow she couldn't anymore, because it looked as though he was probing their minds. He finally shrugged, saying to them, "I'll leave you two alone. It's nice to meet you, Esme."

He left, almost running, it seemed out the door. Esme looked back to the man in front of her, puzzled. "How did he know my name?"

"His name is Edward," he explained, ignoring her question. "He's been my companion…like a son to me for many years." He looked into her eyes. She stared back at his golden ones, seeing herself reflected in them. She started to get nervous again, as she looked different than the time before. He lifted his arms, gently pushing her into a chair. She resisted for a second, noticing the weight and strength in her and his struggle at the resistance. She shouldn't be stronger than this man? She obliged eventually, giving in to his look. "You are a lot stronger than me because you are a newborn," he said, kneeling down to her eye level.

Esme hoped he couldn't read minds, too, but was very curious at the way he left his sentence hanging."A newborn what?"

The few seconds that passed seemed to Esme like hours. She waited, watching his internal conflict at the truth of what he was going to say. He cleared his throat. Esme wondered if that was necessary in his life. "A newborn vampire."

Esme considered the words. Every myth she knew about vampires swarmed her head. She considered what the diet consisted of. She wondered about every possible thing she may not be able to see anymore, including the sun, and possibility of not being able to sleep. She thought about her existence, and wondered if vampires ever died, or even if she was dead already since she had no heartbeat. She was saddened by the thought that she might not be able to die, or even grow or age anymore, seeing no chance to ever see her family in this state. She couldn't, say in twenty years, pop in to see a close friend or relative not having aged since she was twenty-six. The sudden sickening thought of eventually seeing someone she loved and not being able to hold back her desire for her new, crimson diet.

Esme might have been afraid. She might have been angry about her past human life being taken away, even though she almost took it away herself. She might have even been angry at the seemingly perfect man in front of her.

All of these thoughts, these musings, happened in less than a second. Time was moving slower than she remembered.

Esme watched Carlisle's face as he watched hers. His eyes were locked on her and she couldn't get her eyes away. That's when she suddenly knew it was going to be all alright. Every negative emotion was replaced with relief. All of it seemed insignificant with this man—this vampire, in front of her. Her shoulders relaxed, her whole body seemed to sigh into a relaxed position. She lifted a hand and carefully, remembering what he said about her being stronger than him, touched her palm to his cheek. He leaned in a little to her hand, his eyes closing. "I'm not scared," she whispered.

"Maybe…maybe you should be."

She let his eyes open on their own before taking his face and pinning them softly in her hands. "I'm not scared," she repeated. "As long as I'm with you."

That seemed to strike the right cord in Carlisle. He smiled again, and Esme felt herself lean into him. She curled her arms around him and sighed deeply. If this was what eternity brought, than she wouldn't mind the few centuries of new life—as long as they were spent with this man she hardly knew. She sighed into him again.

Esme's rebirth came along with love and a renewed will to love her life no matter what it decided to throw at her.

The End

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Hello, Lala Rue here. This was going to be the shortest chapter for me to write, but it came out quite long. I like it.

I really hope you readers liked it. This doesn't seem to be the most popular story, and who knows maybe the plot's over used or something, but I still like my version of it. I like the idea that Esme hardly knows what she's really gotten into, but accepts it anyway because of her strange pull to Carlisle.

Just my thoughts.

I will hope to write a different story soon, though I don't think it'll be Twilight...I don't think I write it well enough.

Love to all and good-bye!

Love, La'Ruelia