Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own it. Still wish I did. Tho it would be 'The Carlisle and Esme Show' if I did…

A/N: Oh my god, did I ever mean to have this up before now. But these crazy people seem to think college is for CLASS and not for writing, so, in conclusion, I'M SORRY!
This is the last chapter chapter. There will be an epilogue, you'll see why at the end. It's been good to write this story; it's been in me too long. I'm so thankful to everyone who reviewed, and hope you guys like this chapter, and keep reading me in the future!
ALSO: Those of you on my alert list, I AM SO SORRY about the spam. Something screwed up with this chapter, and I had to re-upload the whole thing. I think it's working now, though. Thanks for sticking with me!

Esme couldn't remember how exactly she'd managed to get up two flights of stairs to her own bedroom, but she suspected Alice had something to do with it. She curled herself smaller where she lay in the midst of a sea of familiar blankets and pillows, feeling for the pieces of her heart. Carlisle's words playing over and over in her mind.
"How could you."
"HOW could you?"
Really, she knew exactly how she could. Carlisle was the most precious thing in the world to her, and she would break herself a thousand times if it kept him from being broken once. She thought he would see that, but…
Her body shook as the memories flooded her mind. Carlisle's aghast face and Aro's triumphant one swam together in her mind, and she tried to hold her body still, but couldn't stop the dry sob that escaped her lips.

A strong familiar arm wound it's way around her waist, steadying her slightly, a soft hand stroking her hair, a soothing whisper whispering words her tired mind wouldn't process. The only thing it did know was-

"Carlisle?" she sat up, twisting around, barely daring to look at him, fearing her overworked mind had created him for comfort. But signs of reality lingered on him, from his tired eyes, to his disarrayed hair, where he'd tugged his fingers through it too often. Or his shirt, with it's top two buttons undone, a sure sign he was upset, or frustrated.

"Esme…" he looked at her, anguished. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. I was wrong before, I spoke without thinking, without knowing…" He broke off, cupping her face in his hands. She closed her eyes, his touch a blissfully cool balm for her heart.

"I don't know how I could ask you to forgive me. I don't know if I should, if you can." The pain in his eyes was too much for her, and she shook her head.

"It's alright. I'm the one in the wrong." He looked at her, horrified.

"Dear God, Esme…what you did was…unthinkable." She winced, pulling away from his hands, but he caught her by the shoulders, and she couldn't bring herself to look away from his face.

"It's unthinkable, that you would give so much to save me. It's unbelievable that you would let him…" he broke off, his eyes dark with rage, and she stroked his hand as he took a few calming breaths.

"It's among the worst things that could happen to a person, and you put yourself through it for me." He looked at her brokenly. "You do not need forgiveness, love, I do. For letting him hurt you, and for hurting you myself." He looked away from her, and she watched him hide a sob under his breath.

"I know I don't deserve it, I don't believe I ever will, but…if there was ever some way you could forgive me-" She silenced him with a hand over his lips.

"I forgive you." She whispered, and he let out a breath.

"God, Esme…" he looked like he would argue, but she stopped him.

"Would you not do as much?"

He shuddered at the thought, but nodded. "Yes…yes, I would, and so much more but…you are far more precious than I."

Esme smiled, the first time in days. "Oh Carlisle. I love you. I live for you, I'd die for you. I'll fight for you, and I'll surrender for you."

"But what can I do for you?" his eyes begged, still not able to believe he was truly forgiven. She swallowed hard, and asked him for the one thing she'd wanted since she'd been gotten back from Italy.

"Could you…would you just…hold me? I feel like I'm going to fly apart and I…I need you. Please?"

Carlisle's face softened, and he immediately drew her to him, resting against their headboard. She pillowed her head on his chest as he tucked the blankets around her, and she felt instantly safer, surrounded by familiar smells and textures. But dearest of all was the warmth of him, his arms around her, one stroking her back, the other brushing her hair and face. She sighed, tucking herself closer to him. Things were not normal yet, she knew. Her mind was still scarred, her body still pained and unwilling to forget. But her heart was well on its way to healing, and as she closed her eyes, lulled to relaxation by Carlisle's steady hands, she knew that would do for now.

Alice and Edward peaked into the room an hour later. Carlisle beckoned them in, motioning for them to be quiet. Esme was resting peacefully against him, her breathing steady. She wasn't asleep, he knew, but she was deeply relaxed and Carlisle would be damned if anything disturbed her.

Alice spoke first. "Did you…is she…you two are…" She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her eyes flying from Esme to Carlisle, worried. Edward stood beside her, also looking concernedly at his mother.

Carlisle sighed and looked down at his wife tenderly. "She will be alright. I don't know when, or how, but I'll anything she wants to help."

"We'll help." Alice said firmly, and Edward nodded vigorously. Carlisle smiled.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me now." He looked up from Esme's face, to Alice.

"I..I want to take her to the island. I think the sun would do her good, a chance to get away for a while."

"And give you both time to heal." Alice added sagely. Carlisle nodded.

"I hope so."

Alice nodded, her mind already on preparations. "I'll have you there by next week." She kissed Esme gently on the cheek, and scampered out of the room to plan.

Edward took his sister's place on the bed, and watched his father gaze at his wife with pure adoration. Then, without looking up, Carlisle spoke, and his voice was icily cold.

"There should be a plane to Italy within the next few days."

"Carlisle?" Carlisle looked up at him, all the rage and anguish he'd hidden from Esme written for his son to read.

"I need to be on that plane."