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.

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[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."

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle just throws Edward a look.

None of this is required. Free man, remember?

[themidnightson]

Edward chuckled, in spite of himself, because of the face.
Then made a gesture with his hand to lead away from the couches.

[ofthefamily]

And it's easy to let Edward lead here.

Particularly since he has no clue where Edward might want to take them.

[themidnightson]

He isn't presumptuous. Or isn't again quite yet.

He leaves the couches and chairs, passing the tables half filled and empty, passing the booths with their corners and easier access to the rafters, then the stairway which leads to the room ten years and only a few days abandoned, before holding open the backdoor for Carlisle.

Outside it's nothing like Washington's brown icy winter. Summer warmth is like a blanket against bodies, even in the pre-dawn where only the faintest far light has started gently changing the velvet black of the sky. In the distance the trees and leaves are still a bright green, waiting for the day to show themselves off.

[ofthefamily]

This is easy, too, and Carlisle smiles at the uncomplicated scenery.

Even as the memory of the last time he was here - in the woods, desperate - comes back in a rush, he doesn't flinch or hide from that. It happens and goes away again.

[themidnightson]

Edward's hand slipped from the door once Carlisle had passed through it. He didn't listen much to the sound it made closing. Or to the endless thoughts and images behind and around him. Or, even with much specificity, to the memory.

Which was not the same as ignoring it. Or him.



Edward walked out into the darkness that never felt truly dark here, brushing Carlisle's shoulder and glancing up to nod in that direction as he went, toward one side of the lake that smelled like an ocean rather than the forest.

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle never noticed the difference in everything last time.

(It was hard to focus on details besides Edward. Even now, it's still -- )

"This is where you can come for quiet."

[themidnightson]

Edward's reaction to the words was pretty instantaneous.

The uncertain press of his lips and faintest tensing at the edges of his lips, when he stopped, staring at the still far enough off press of water lapping against one part rocky shore.

[ofthefamily]

"Would you prefer me not to speak, then?"

There's something that's slipped to formal here, and maybe more recognizable to Edward. The Edward that came into Carlisle's life - will come into, but maybe not anymore - in another continent.

But the walk is nice.

[themidnightson]

"No," is the same breadth of instantaneous, to the point, but faster to words in reaction than the other. With an aimless wryness that doesn't quite redress the first reaction. "I would have to go a good deal further for quiet."


And Milliways had far more chosen his presence than the other way around.

[ofthefamily]

"You wanted me here."

Theoretically.

[themidnightson]

Past tense. Testing waters. Reminding.

"I do." For the multiple things that means.

Even if his thoughts were not on it exactly.

[ofthefamily]

What an elephant in the...nonexistent room.

"What do I like? In the future."

[themidnightson]

Edward blinked. Not so much surprised, but looking over. Only once, golden eyes focused on Carlisle, as though perhaps focusing back toward this newest point, back to him, back to or from somewhere else.

"My present? Or any point of the future from yours?"