In Paris 1723

[2.4]

Chapter Four - I Don't Hate You

*Genevieve*

"I never wanted to have a party," Bella says, watching as Carlisle carefully removes the glass that had been embedded in her arm.

"It's not your fault," Carlisle reassures her, his eyes focused on the tiny glass particles, "Jasper hasn't been away from human blood as long as the rest of us."

"How do you both do it?" she asks, looking at Carlisle and then at me.

"Years and years of practice," Carlisle says, looking up and meeting her gaze. I stay silent, leaning against the wall and watching as Carlisle begins to carefully and expertly stitch the cut closed.

"Did you ever think of... just doing it the easy way?" she asked, keeping her gaze on him, not watching the small needle sew her skin back together.

"At times," I confess, causing her eyes to fly over to me in shock. "But I find myself thinking about my family... and how they would feel if they heard that I had- in a way- failed. I think about how I couldn't be able to face them, look them in the eyes the same way again. And that stops me, every single time that I think about 'doing it the easy way'."

Carlisle let's what I say sink in for a minute before speaking up. "No, I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Bring me happiness. Even if I am damned regardless."

Bella looked surprised at his wording, "Damned? Like- like hell?"

Carlisle paused, meeting her gaze and silently answering her question.

Bella just shook her head in complete disbelief, a little incredulous scoff escaping her. "Carlisle you couldn't be damned. You couldn't. It's impossible."

He smiled softly as he wrapped her arm. "Thank you, Bella. You've always been very gracious about us. By all other accounts though, we are dammed. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying."

The room falls silent as Bella flutters her gaze from Carlisle to her freshly bandaged wrist. "Do they all think like this?"

"Eddie boy doesn't believe that there's an afterlife for 'our kind', if that's what you're wondering," I say, causing her attention to turn towards me with a curious gaze.

"He thinks that this is our 'afterlife'. In exchange for this limited immortality, we've 'lost our souls'," I continue, stepping forward with a sour expression on my face. "A little dramatic if you ask me... but to each their own I suppose."

She slowly pieces together what Carlisle and I had said with something else and looks back up, a sudden realization hitting her. "So that's it. That's why he won't change me?"

Carlisle bit his lip as he sighed, shaking his head as he stood back.

"Image the situation in reverse," I step forward towards her as Carlisle throws the bloody bandages into the bowl and steps back, his eyes watching Bella as she pondered what I had said. I continue forward and reach out towards the matches, striking a one on the side of its box and gazing at it for a second before throwing it into the bowl. Watching as it caught on the small puddle of alcohol that Carlisle had poured onto the bottom of the bowl, the bandages going up in a burst of vibrant red and orange flames only a few seconds later. "If you believed as Edward does, could you take away his soul?"

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After a few minutes, Carlisle had packed up and thoroughly cleaned and disinfected his suturing kit, tucking it back into his hospital bag and underneath his desk. The bowl of bloody wraps and bandages had turned into nothing but a small pile of ashes, the flame extinguishing itself as it let out a faint trail of smoke before eventually dying out.