Chapter 3: The Keeper of Time - III
Silence descended upon them, lasting long enough so that the soft sounds of the night reached inside. The rain seemed to have stopped for a while, leaving in its wake the subtle scent of damp earth. Carlisle shifted like a nervous teenager, exchanging a meaningful look with his mate before offering his arm to Frances. The gesture, so old-fashioned, felt so right that the young lady laced her arm through his without a second thought. The coldness of his skin permeated through his shirt and woollen jumper. It should have spooked her, for Frances very much liked warm-blooded people on a daily basis, such as her cute boyfriend Charlie. Yet, she now felt at ease, as if her instincts screamed at her that Carlisle would protect her no matter what.
His angelic voice broke the silence of his footsteps as they ascended the open stairs in the grand living room.
— "There is something I must give you. Something I have kept for a very long time."
Many questions should have been asked, but Frances let her intuition lead the conversation as she was too blurry minded to be inquisitive.
— "How long?"
— "Two hundred and twenty-six years exactly"
— "That's a very long time."
Carlisle assented with a hum as he pushed the door to the library and moved aside. Sensing the shift in the mood, Frances passed him, and let him close the door behind her. She didn't know why she trusted those people to keep her safe, but the sense of danger had abated somehow. The doctor pulled a little velvet pouch from a drawer, and laid it on his desk. Gesturing to Frances to sit on the couch, he lowered himself cautiously on the other side of the leather sofa.
— "Suit yourself," she told him. "I am not afraid, though Mulder will have my head for that."
Carlisle nodded, refraining from asking questions about her coworkers. It was, after all, quite uncommon for one so young to be part of a federal investigation, especially since he knew of her French origins. But there was no time for this; the clock was ticking, and very soon, he would have to surrender her to them. His golden eyes danced with warmth as he settled on the couch, noting that she didn't shy away from him. She knew his heart, and trusted him. The doctor wondered, if Frances had been a vampire, would she be like him? Her gift of empathy was written over her face. But time was short, and he needed to convey his message.
— "I served as a doctor during the war of independence. One day on the battlefield, I found a young woman, her body covering a dead soldier."
Carlisle paused, his body tuned to the girl's heartbeat. He didn't know how far stretched her sensitivity; she seemed so innocent, so young! Her hazel eyes, though, begged him to continue, and he resumed his story.
— "A bullet had got her; she was bleeding to death, and was aware of it. She had the most peculiar shade of hair, her straight blond almost silver in the light. And her ears … they were slightly pointed. I had never seen anything like it"
Frances' eyebrows lifted in surprise. She'd seen mutations and such, but never a set of pointed ears.
— "Pointed you say? Like a birth defect?"
— "I have mused a long time over this, but they were so perfect, and the woman had this inner glow as her life bleed from her. It couldn't possibly be a defect, not one to be corrected."
The young lady nodded, ready to hear the rest of the story and storing the information for later.
— "So what happened?"
— "When I turned her around to see if I could help her, she seized my hand and wouldn't let me go; she had an amazing strength for her build. I knelt by her side, and met her clouded gaze. She asked me to retrieve her necklace, once she would be dead, and bade me to safekeep in until the moment came."
— "The moment?"
— "The same words tumbled from my mouth. Her only answer was to mention, 'the Keeper of time'".
Frances' chocolate eyebrows almost met her hairline.
— "The Keeper of Time? And what would that be?"
— "I understood little of what she said, for she was babbling in a beautiful language I have never heard. But from what I gathered; she was the Keeper of Time. And couldn't designate another one, for she had strayed from her path, and died for it without regrets. Or so she said."
At this point, Carlisle expected Frances to leave the room, or comment on the insanity of it all. He was surprised to see the cogs running in her mind, trying to make sense of the information she was fed with. The doctor sighed with relief; she had a solid head on her shoulders, even at that age. Obviously, the young woman had come across weirder things in her life. Or was incredibly naïve. Yet, she didn't strike like the type to fall for any fool's tale.
— "Poor woman. Did she give any more information about that necklace, and how important it was?"
— "She said that it should go to the next Keeper of time. I was abashed, and tried to reason with her. Her last words were those: When you meet her, you will know. And then she exhaled her last breath, and I was left alone, free to heed her words, or reject them"
Carlisle closed his mouth then, letting the silence impregnate the moment. As a vampire, his memory was absolutely perfect, and he could still hear the cries of the dying, and the stench of blood and gore from that day. The deadened eyes of the beautiful maiden, the pool of crimson on her dress, and the hand she had kept secured to the soldiers' jacket.
— "What was your choice then?" Frances whispered.
The doctor stood and, retrieving the velvet pouch from his desk, reverently dropped it in Frances' hands. The young lady's eyes widened, bringing more light into her irises as she attempted to guess his intentions.
— "Open it"
Frances shuddered, weighted down by the implications. Did it mean what she thought it meant, was he giving the item to her, or just asking for her to give it peek? Frances' trembling fingers fumbled with the ribbon, so much that Carlisle's cold ones seized it to help her loosen the pouch. The brush of his icy skin elicited a shiver in Frances' spine, but she brushed it away. A necklace woven in shiny metal fell into her hands. The chain seemed solid enough, but not plain. Its design of imbricated strands had an otherworldly feel to it. Yet, it wasn't on the beautiful silvery wire that Frances' gaze was captured, for a blue gem shone in her palm. It sheer size, at least an inch, was extraordinary enough in itself. It has not been carved, only polished in an oval, as if breaking it would have been considered a crime. And its colour, this deep and bright blue, stunned her senses. As if the light of a thousand moons had been captured inside, making the gem glow with a magical light. Dumbstruck, the young woman turned to Carlisle.
— "This is the necklace she wore?"
Carlisle nodded.
— "The chain is long enough so that it can be hidden from plain sight."
And then, came the revelation.
— "It is yours now."
Frances gaped openly as his words, calling forth a chuckle from the vampire. Quite an unladylike expression on her lovely face.
— "I don't… I can't… I don't know what this is implying, but I don't think I'm up to any time-keeping tasks. Hell, I don't even know how that works, and I can't possibly have a busier life that what I have now,"
Stuttering, the young lady gathered the necklace back into its pouch, and stood. Carlisle's golden eyes were boring holes into her, increasing her state of panic. She could not, she would not accept one more responsibility, especially since she knew nothing of the circumstances. The doctor stood, his moves inhumanly graceful, and she took a step back. Stunned, Carlisle stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze so intense that Frances' heart nearly gave out.
— "Please. Do not discard the idea so readily. It has waited for you for two hundred years, it can wait a little more. Time is of no consequence."
An air of certainty crossed Carlisle's features, and Frances felt her irritation rising. From the very beginning, something had felt off. As if he knew things that she didn't, as if he shared only one part of the story. And she'd be damned if she accepted an artefact that could very well strike her dead. In his eyes though, she could only read trust, and warmth. Once more, she wondered why the doctor was so fond of her. Perhaps his natural empathy? Was she even worth of being considered as such but a multicentenal being?
— "Why me? Why, of all people, would you choose to give it to me?"
— "Because you are up to the task."
To this, Frances snorted.
— "You know nothing about me."
The doctor seemed stunned for an instant, his mouth closing before saying something he could regret. She could see, as plain as day, the debate occurring in Carlisle's brain. As if, indeed, he knew much more than he let on. Resigned, he chose to attack another angle.
— "Because Alice has seen it. You are the next Keeper of Time. You have been chosen to be."
— "By whom? By you?"
Carlisle lifted his hand, as if intend on touching her before retracting it.
— "No. I am merely a messenger. But I love to think that some higher powers have a say in our lives. They have sent me some aid once, in the direst of times."
— "All of this, Dr Cullen, it doesn't make sense. You are aware of it."
— "Nay, my lady Frances. It didn't make sense until I saw you."
The young woman paused; his manner of speech seemed to revert to an oldish form of English when he was upset, like an accent resurfacing when not being mastered. Her eyes narrowed.
— "How old are you?"
A pregnant pause followed, and then, his head was cocked to the side, as if listening to something she couldn't hear.
— "We must move. The sheriff has mounted a search party for you. You must return to your colleagues."
The velvet pouch was forgotten on the couch, neither of them willing to resume the battle of will. Outside, the downpour has resumed; a standard occurrence for the city of Forks. Carlisle almost dragged her into his car, a brand-new Mercedes, and drove away on a rough trail until he popped on the soaked road. Frances had no time to greet any of his kids goodbye, her brain fried as the doctor drove at full speed. Too fast. Frances closed her eyes, the dizziness coming back full force. Then, they came upon several pick-ups with flashing lights. Carlisle parked his car a few feet away, and, taking advantage of the few seconds they had, conveyed all his hopes in one deep look of his golden eyes.
— "Please trust me"
Then he was on the other side of the car, opening the door, and gathering her into his arms under the pouring rain. His cold skin was like rock, his arms like that of a statue. In a few moments, she was soaked again, and looking every part of the damsel in distress.
— "Charlie!" he called, approaching slowly as if under the pressure of her weight.
But she knew better. The doctor didn't even flinch in his step as he carried her. The steadiness of his arms under her frame did not falter. The sherif's form came into view, and Carlisle's voice carried over the downpour.
— "We found her in the woods near our house. Her jacket was torn, probably an animal, but no apparent wound, and I made sure she had no concussion. A little rest, though, would be needed."
— "Thank God, you found her! Thank you Dr Cullen" came the sherif's voice.
— "You're very welcome, Charlie."
Unwilling to break the role, Frances moaned softly as the doctor set her feet on the floor. She was so confused by it all; she needed time to process. Unfortunately, Mulder and Scully were on her in a flash. The hard thinking would have to be delayed. Carlisle escaped at once, wary of Mulder's inquisitive gaze. That was a smart move. For the moment, her teammate's worry was enough to cloud his judgement, but Frances knew that in normal circumstances, Mulder would have detected something fishy. As they talked to her, asking about what happened, to which she only answered the partial truth of her waking up in the doctor's house, feeling dizzy, Carlisle sent her a last warning look. 'Please be mindful of us, and my family', it conveyed. Frances blinked as his silhouette eyes disappeared in the car. How could he trust her with such dangerous knowledge? How did he know that she would protect him? Protect them? How could he possibly make such a bargain?
It seemed like eternity before Frances was allowed to rest. Mulder was throwing all sorts of theories on how the super fast suspect might have snatched her away, and Frances, for once, couldn't tell him how close he was to the truth. Somehow, she knew that the government would hunt this family down without respite. No matter how strongly she trusted Mulder, he would have to write a report. And she had no proof that they were innocent anyway, not a single fact to oppose them. If anyone up the ladder laid their hands on mind-reading immortals … then hell would break loose. No, she couldn't say anything. At last, Mulder and Scully seemed to realise her exhaustion, and they left to argue in the motel room next door.
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