ofthefamily | Carlisle-Esme, Pittsburgh.

Carlisle-Esme, Pittsburgh.

Vampires don't sleep.

They do, however, sometimes find it relaxing to sit in a chair with a gramophone record playing in the background -- instrumental; an orchestra. Beyond that, there's no label on the record to dictate where or when the performance was recorded.

Carlisle's eyes are closed, his feet are propped up on a chair.

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There was one time in Carlisle's medical studies that he became a midwife's assistant. Silent the entire time, his strength helped in difficult pregnancies.

"Always let them hear your heart beating," the midwife would advise. "It's a comfort to them, bein' near something so living."

"Shhhh," Carlisle says aloud to no one in particular. "You're alright here."

"If I hadn't left... hadn't tried to make it on my own..." she says, unable to get out a fully formed sentence.

"You know what would have happened if you had tried to stay with him," Carlisle starts, keeping the man's name off of his mind and lips. "You had to.

"You can't go backward. Try to make your life here. Please."

Esme lifts her head and looks at him. "You know?"

"It was medically obvious when I saw you again that you had jumped," Carlisle starts slowly. "Edward told me about Charles. Not about your son."

It's on the tip of her tongue to ask how much Edward has told him, but she doesn't want to answer any questions, so she decides that it doesn't matter.

"It wasn't the life I wanted. I wanted to move out west and be a schoolteacher. My family... well, I couldn't bring myself to leave them. And then Charles went to the war. But he came back."

And was meaner upon his return.

Maybe Elisabeth Masen had cause to worry about her son in more ways than just the possibility of him dying. But no, Edward never would have changed like that --

"But now you're here."

Esme nods. "Yes. And I don't know why you chose to give me a second chance, but I am grateful that you did."

Even if she won't be able to have children.

"You will drive yourself crazy if you keep looking for reasons that aren't there," Carlisle tells Esme's hair.

I wanted to.

"Have faith that you can find something you can love here."

I already have.

Esme nods. "I'm not used to people doing nice things for me for no reason."

Or at all.

Pointedly: "Get used to it."

Esme manages a weak smile.

"I'm trying."

"I know."

Esme and Carlisle have nearly entwined themselves around each other in the chair now, ankles crossing over ankles and both leaning inward towards the other.

"What more can I do?"

By sheer force of will, Esme doesn't allow the first words that spring to mind to pass her lips.

Instead, she shrugs and lets her eyes drift closed, drawing comfort from his closeness.

"Somehow I doubt you are ever a woman who does not know what she wants."

He doesn't push the topic, though. Carlisle sits as still as stone with Esme by his side on the chair, thoughts wandering.

"I will try to make you happy. If I can, and know how. There is no manual for this."

"Being here makes me happy."

Here being subjective. She means here, sitting with him, close to him. But she assumes he will mean here in Pittsburgh.

For once, Carlisle may actually get it. And not protest.

"You don't have to move until you want to."

Esme's face no doubt registers her surprise that he not only understand what she meant, but that he's not arguing with her about it.

But rather than comment on that, she is quiet for a moment, listening to the music currently playing.

"What is this?" she asks.

"A record."

Smirk.

Esme rolls her eyes. "I'm surprised an old guy like you knows anything about modern technology."

She's clearly teasing. But will maintain that, in her defense, he started it.

"Of course I prefer the actual performance to a recording, but harpsichords are slightly difficult to come by in Pittsburgh."

Carlisle stares at the gramophone for a long moment.

"I don't want you to choose me out of...some idea of recompense. You owe me nothing. I have lived for a very long time.

"Don't stay with me because you feel as though you have to."

Family doesn't work that way.

"Where do you think I would go?" Esme asks.

Especially in light of the conversation they have just had. She cannot understand why he thinks she might ever want to leave.

"And... you have made it quite clear that I don't owe you anything. You've made it equally clear that choosing you is not an option. I'm well aware of both."

"Esme -- "

Carlisle shifts from his position, pulling back from her; trying to disentangle himself.

" -- For as much as you want a reason why I turned you, you've given me no rational explanation as to why you should want to...choose me. It makes no sense."

"And you have yet to give me a rational explanation as to why you did turn me," Esme retorts, making it easy for him to disentangle himself as she stands up and walks across the room.

"You know why that is, Carlisle?" she demands, addressing the wall. "Because love isn't rational!"

She walks out of the office, not waiting for a response.

Carlisle shifts, spinning to his knees backwards on the chair, elbows and forearms across the back of the headrest, calling out to the house at large calmly.

"Esme, please come back."

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