Ruthless and Ivory (Twilight Fan Fiction)

Chapter 31: Near

Chapter 31: Near

"Where is it?" This is the second time he asks. Numbly, I stare. No answer.

My hand in Carlisle's is life squeezing out. Edward's eyes, those green eyes I love so very much, I watch them toggle from me to his father. His father. Not the same color irises, but like his mothers. Red hair, tousled and alive. His family roots lost in a photograph he doesn't notice.

"Where...?" he asks one last time. This time I have to answer. His jaw is setting the way it does when he's just pushed over the edge.

"It's..." I breathe. I look at Carlisle. His eyes on light and not looking away for an instant—he's lost in Edward, flesh and blood. I've never noticed this hope in his eyes before. Always treating Edward with hostility. Always kept him under his thumb. Maybe to keep him distant. To keep him in familiar territory of violence. To keep his shell tough. Because, still, he needed him—to find, to kill, to fix the mess of Aro. I know. I wouldn't have to ask.

I sigh. "His son. His dead son had it." I go to hand him the photo of the child on the blanket. He doesn't take it, doesn't even look at it. His scrutiny on Carlisle still. My hand falls to my lap with the photograph.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks Carlisle. No response.

"He...no one knew, Edward," I explain quickly. Why do I explain so quickly? The anxiety inside me. Carlisle is in a different light now. I rush to his defense.

"Why?" he asks Carlisle, not me.

"It was safe. To keep all the burden from me. Incase of anything..." I trail off. Edward's hand lifts to stop me. He walks around the bed and stands by him. Carlisle's eyes follow him.

"Tell me the truth," he insists. But Carlisle doesn't respond. All he does is lift his free hand to spread his fingers on Edward's shoulder, where his shirt wrinkles with the grip. Carlisle sighs. He closes his eyes.

"It was important. You have to understand. If they had you," he rasps, looking up at Edward, "I couldn't live with myself, knowing...they would've done anything to take it out of you...the truth."

My heart pounds. Carlisle's words are double with meaning. I squeeze his hand.

"Why didn't you take it out of your son before you buried him?" Carlisle shakes his head as Edward asks, but he doesn't answer.

I stand and walk up to Edward. "Let's let him rest. There's no use now. Nothing can be done."

"I'll find it. Tell me. Where did you bury him?" Edward persists. My blood runs cold. I grab Edward's hand to get his attention.

"It's better this way," Carlisle confesses.

Edward looks at me but his thoughts still in this inexplicable confusion. I shrug and shake my head at him. "At least no one will ever get to it." I try. "I'm glad. It could all be over."

Edward's brows knit. His expression of uncertainty at dismissing this so quickly. "I'm tired." I hurry to explain. But it's true, I am, of everything; the chasing and struggle. His gaze turns to sympathy.

"You're tired, too," I tell him. "Let's go sleep. We'll think of something," I plead with him, trying not to show the urgency.

He takes a step and I can breathe. But he looks back at Carlisle and tries to find reason in his pale gaze again. "What was the point?" He speaks. "Of Bella, of all of us? Killing, hiding, fighting. What was the point if you knew all along?" Edward asks and I want to fall.