Golden: 1819.

[ofthefamily]

An old face. Calmer, older, and yet all the same unchanged.

At least he's not running for his life, now. And he knows where he is.

For Carlisle Cullen, this is always a good start.

Comments

[themidnightson]

"No." Edward's lips turned toward something more affectionate, without his realizing this yet, his gaze still quite certainly on the palm of his hand. "You seemed to be hoping I was going to come to my senses any day then and wait a few more years. Especially after each almost incident."

Even though he was so proud. Exquisitely so.

Edward hadn't be able to accept that reaction then.

How proud Carlisle had been. How much it meant to him. Them.

"I was...persistent and driven toward it from the first inspiration. And perhaps too aware, that unless someone died in this near inundation experiment of personal control, you wouldn't say no."

But, then, he was slowly becoming more aware that Carlisle never would.

[ofthefamily]

From the first inspiration.

"At least I didn't make you."

[themidnightson]

"You've rarely forced my hand."

It's...not honest. Everything inside him knows that.



How many things never made it to conversations?

How many times did nature or Carlisle's existence or Carlisle's choices define for him the direction of everything else that was? Like domino's falling in line, even when he rebelled against it.

[ofthefamily]

"That's a lie."

Replaying in Carlisle's mind, He needs me.

[themidnightson]

It's a decided effort, even if it doesn't show. Fingers near Carlisle's shoulder finally turning, so that his palm covers his own knee, fingers loose across his leg.

"You're smarter than that." Is too calm, too cool, to be an insult.
It's almost devoid of anything expect the sound required to speak it. "Even now."

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle doesn't reply to that.

Except for maybe, "I am glad to know you perceive me so highly?"

[themidnightson]

"Indisputably."




He needs me.

It's not wholly charitable.
Not even when he might wish it.

[ofthefamily]

"And now that I seem to constantly...well. Eventually, come back here?" To you?, Carlisle almost adds.

[themidnightson]

Edward's gaze shifted over to Carlisle's face.







"Yes."

[ofthefamily]

"Yes what?"

[themidnightson]

To everything, Carlisle.

Haven't you been paying attention?



"I'm following." Your statement, at least.

He's led more of this than so many decades of pattern.

[ofthefamily]

Not everything.

"We need a new topic."

[themidnightson]

It's never that simple. And it is. He's older now, and still new enough to Edward not to know how much it is true. How little (and by that much) it would take to twist all of this to what he'd asked for.

Edward's fingers dug into the cloth of the jean around his knee, even when his eyes didn't move from that face. "We keep saying that." He pressed, regardless, he gave up not turning himself inside out on this more than half a century ago. "And now that you constantly seem to return?"

[ofthefamily]

it's just a different kind of tease.

[themidnightson]

Edward didn't look away, in fact he didn't move. Something deep inside his eyes, troubled, still existing in a debate that had not stopped taking place there for minutes already.

"Soll ich Ihnen anbieten zu verlassen, rechts, nachdem Sie mich gebeten, für immer bleiben?"

[ofthefamily]

Almost desperate: "I don't speak German."

[themidnightson]

Edward's lips pressed faintly. His expression was almost apologetic. He was cheating. They were words that couldn't be said when they could be understood. And one day he'd understand the question, because he couldn't forget this moment.

...and even that was wrong of him to leave Carlisle with.






Softer, perhaps, actually apologetic and stating, "But you know me."
Something beyond language and points of order and even sense.

[ofthefamily]

"Do I? I hope so."

Carlisle is still there. At Edward's feet no less.

His head is starting to hurt, and he doesn't even think to ask for a translation of the German.

[themidnightson]

"You do." It's not calm or confident. It's not a reminder or an agreement. It's something beyond all of these. Something true beyond all stipulations or explanations.

He couldn't leave if he wanted to (and he never would completely; leave or want to). From the room, maybe. But not from the building until Carlisle had returned to his home.

[ofthefamily]

Or at least where he came from.

Carlisle stands up.

[themidnightson]

A short of sharp worry crossed through his eyes as he raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

[ofthefamily]

I'm finished with sitting on the floor. That is all.

[themidnightson]

"Would you like to go somewhere?"

Isn't even as leading as it sounds.
But it is cool and calm and smooth.

[ofthefamily]

"If you'd still like me to be closer, that might be the best way to go about it."

Still vague. Not trying to be unhelpful so much as not really knowing how to be any way else.

[themidnightson]

That is a surprise. Sharp as it is pleasant. That he's still doing so. That he's still doing so at his request. That he's still willing to do so. After...

Edward pushed himself up from the chair, leaving the book behind on the arm of it, a carelessly easy move that did not reflect as much care or ease in his countenance.

One arm crossed, hand lying loose across the sleeve cuff of the opposite wrist. "It isn't required."