Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Of the Moon and Sun

It has been 100 years of peace and quiet...and then the phone rings.

All Cannon Pairings. Multiple original characters. Rated Adult for violence, and language. Beta'd before posted. TwiFic Central Required Warning : PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE MATURE THEMES CONTAINED WITHIN THIS FICITION. – This includes sexual encounter(s) (later chapters), mentions of murder/death and language.

1. Phone Call Of The Century

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1446   Review this Chapter

TwiFic Central Required Warning : PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE MATURE THEMES CONTAINED WITHIN THIS FICITION. – This includes mentions of murder/death, lemons(later chatpers) and language.


It is quiet in the house. The piano lies still, the TV is not blaring. No shrill shrieks of anger or fits of booming laughter. Bella is not on the porch reading her favorite book, like usual. No choir of voices to greet me home. The children are out hunting, I remember. It is a peaceful change from the hospital. No one yelling my name, no grinding sounds of gurneys being pushed at high speeds down the hall ways and no crying sobs of the loved ones left behind. Yes, I am home and I take a moment to enjoy it. The silence is minimally broken by the smallest of sounds. Human ears would never have perceived it. I grin at the small reminder.

Following the sound, through the foyer, passing the large living room I notice a board game has been left strewn about on the floor by the fire place. I will have to scold them for that. They know better than to leave things lying around. I shake my head knowing full well it is my granddaughter that is guilty of the small crime. Turning towards the sound again I move off down the hall way to the sitting area near the kitchen. Peering out the large wall length windows, that overlooks the backyard, I smile again. Ah. There she is. I think. She has not gone with the children, as we had gone the night before. Mom and Dad time’ my youngest son calls it.

She is a beautiful creature, though somehow even more so, when she is working in her garden. She tends to it like it is her child. And, on some level, I guess it is. Our grand-daughter has been grown for years now and no longer needs to be fussed over as she once did. I watch as she gently moves the newest addition into her paradise; a small frail looking plant, which Alice gave her yesterday. She smiles as she slowly packs the dirt in around the roots. Always the green thumb, I muse tearing myself away from the nurturing sight. I will leave her to her gardening for the moment.

Moving off through the empty house again, I find myself drawn to my study. I spend most of my time here when I am home. Sitting down at my desk I pick up the morning newspaper. I left to early this morning to read it. Alice must have seen the paper delivery would be delayed and left it for me to find. I chuckle there is nothing she ever misses. I sigh, pulling open the newspaper and began my scanning. Nothing unusual is occurring. Things have been relatively quiet lately, as they should be for a sleepy little town like Forks. The one thing that does catch my eye is the announcement of winter break from school. I chuckle again. The children will be home for three straight weeks. Esme will be beside herself.

Re-folding the paper I set it aside and lean back, swiveling my chair around to face the large open windows that are behind me. I scan the forest that spreads out before me like a blanket of green and white. It is beautiful here, of all the places we have lived over the years, I have to admit that Forks is my favorite. It has truly changed little, if it has changed at all. New faces, different life style; but all in all Forks was still Forks and probably will be for a long time after this. No one here remembers us, we erased ourselves from their lives, their records, and their memories.

One hundred and fifty years is a long time for humans and even werewolves, but the Quileute’s memory is long. Jacob had naturally gone to check on his tribe, well their decedents anyway, shortly after our return here. The meeting had been awkward, the now leader of the tribe; Ephraim Lahote was not a trusting man. Only after a few visits, and Jacob showing his other side to Ephraim and the other elders did they believe him. Caleb Uley had voiced his concerns of course but Ephraim would hear none of it. I expect trouble may come from the man one day, but Alice has given no sign to seeing him a threat. Ephraim and the other elders, had immediately promised Jacob the treaty would be up held as it once had. And so here we are, able to remain for at least the next four to eight years.

I wonder how far the children have gone this time. Their quarry will most likely be keeping to the mountains. It is the middle of winter; the animals will still be hibernating. Turning back to my desk, I rub my temples, more out of habit than necessity. I sigh again and swivel in my chair. Leaning over, I pull open a thin compartment beneath the filing drawer of the desk. Carefully removing a thick leather bound book from the drawer’s shallow depths, I take note that I will need to find a better hiding place for its size soon. Too many life times between the pages. Lifting open the cover, I breath in the scent it casts off. For some reason I have always loved the smell of aged paper and ink, even as a human. I gently turn to the first page. It is covered with pictures of Esme and I. In the center of the collage there is a picture yellowed with age. I trace the centuries old note written below the photograph. “Carlisle and Esme – 1921”.I move on through the pages, reliving every moment captured on film. The first time Esme had redecorated the house, and the time she realized she liked to garden. The first time Edward played her favorite sonata, on the ivory piano she had bought him. The family portrait Alice had been adamant we take.

I do not need these pictures to remind me of the events but they are nice to have anyway. I know that Alice has a much more detailed album of the family’s life. It is the one thing we keep with us. The one thing that remains the same, beside ourselves of course. Emmett had complained when we moved back here about all the boxes he and Jasper had to unload that were full of nothing but picture albums. I laugh, remembering Alice had silenced her brother with a sudden close up shot and blinded him for the next several minutes. My phone vibrates, pulling me from my reverie, and I quickly pick it up.

“Dr. Cullen.” I answer out of habit.

“Uh…yes...M-mr. C-Cul….Doctor Cullen, forgive me. Hello.” A rather shaken voice replies. I immediately recognized the thick British voice. It is Henri, my family’s attorney. What could he want? I think, as he continues.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, sir, but I have received a rather urgent request. A certain Madam Beaumont called a few moments ago, asking for you personally. She stated it was a family matter and to tell you that your presence is being requested at her home in New Orleans. Madam Beaumont left her number sir, will you need it?”

“No. Please call her back on my behalf and let her know I will be arriving shortly.,” I order.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. As always, please call if you need my assistance.” And with that Henri hangs up. Flipping my cell phone shut, I return the album to its drawer and leave my study quickly, speeding soundlessly down the stair case. No doubt my wife will assume I have been called back to the hospital and the children will not be home for hours yet. I take my keys from their place by the door and slip outside. The sun just setting behind the cloud bank as I slide into the driver’s seat of my car and start the engine. I look once and then accelerate out of the drive way. I hope that the decision to leave has been made too quickly for Alice to have much foresight of it, but I doubt it. My mind races faster than I am driving. We have not spoken in centuries. We made a deal with each other before I left her company. We were never to contact each other unless we had no other choice, no other way out. What could have happened? What had gone so terribly wrong that she needs me?