Author's Note: So I was laying in bed, trying to get to sleep about week ago. I can never get to sleep immediately, so I was just letting my mind wander. I started thinking about New Moon alternatives and I came up with this.

Tell me what you think.

* * * * x o x * * * *

I turned over in my bed, taking the comforter with me as I rolled. I didn't need to sleep anymore; I couldn't. Even though I knew it was useless, I had still tried. The outcome always came to the same thing: I could no longer fall into the comfortable unconsciousness that used to be vital in my life.

I sat up, wrapping my arms around my center like I did when human. The pain that came with my human memories did not fade, but increased. I had finally gotten what I wanted, what I had always yearned for, but now it was an empty reward. It no longer held any meaning to me. It was painfully ironic; I finally got what I had wished, and now I didn't have the one thing I wanted it for.

With inhuman speed, I leapt out from under the covers and went to my wardrobe to change out of my nightgown; I pretended to sleep every night, laying motionless with my eyes closed or just simply staring at the wall for seven hours straight. It seemed like the only connection to my human life, or the time period that I would call "When I lived."

I heaved a sigh when I entered the bedroom sized closet. Every time I walked in here, it reminded me of that cheerful, spiky-haired pixie; she would probably be the first vampire in history to faint if she saw the size. I didn't keep much in it though, my clothes only occupying one row out of the eleven that made up the closet's interior.

With another painful sigh, I grabbed an outfit at random and changed into it, not bothering to look at myself in the mirror. I didn't care anymore.

With a few quick brushes through my hair, I walked out from my private quarters and into the main hall while ignoring the pitch black cloak that hung on my coat rack. I was very defiant, refusing to wear it unless when it was absolutely necessary.

I walked through the brightly lit hallway on my way to the main lounge; it was what humans called a Den, and the only place I could feel slightly comfortable.

Common regular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the ceiling in the hall, giving off an annoying buzz. I quickly walked through the hall ways, turning down corridors when necessary until I reached the 'Den.'

The room was warm, a reaction to the flickering fire that was snapping and popping in the fireplace. The walls were a comforting tarnish brown that matched the earthy colors of the furniture. Along the far wall there were wooden shelves holding many, many books, all containing my favorites. There were a few couches spread out evenly around the room. The carpet was a dirt brown color that went along with the Den's color scheme. On the rest of the walls, along with some buck mounts, were pretty paintings along with some famous ones. My favorite was the painting done by Jean Baptiste Camille that hung above the fireplace; 'Volterra- The Citadel.' The landscape was beautiful.

The side tables and other shelves held rare vases and expensive jewelry, including the crown jewels that had 'disappeared' after John of England pawned them in the thirteenth century.

I didn't waste my time ogling at the expensive scenery and walked to the giant bookcases that lined the back of the room. I had seen it all before many times.

Finding what I wanted, I picked the book from the shelf and sat close to the fire. The warm flames lapped greedily at the black wood that was nestled into the white ash from previous fires. I could literlally feel the heat radiating from the orange and yellow skirmish behind me and sighed when the hot air curled around my arms and legs.

Warmth in any form was exceptionally enjoyable to me, if not to all vampires. Being as cold as we are, you could imagine how amazing it felt.

Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; I held it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands.

"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." He sighed…

A tremor rocked through my body as the human memory presented itself.

This was my life now. Constantly alone with myself, trying to forget when it was hopeless. Everything I did reminded me of him, and I painfully lolled through the days, thinking of my human life every few minutes.

With one steadying breath, I relaxed from my tense position and leaned against the rock surface of the fireplace, to the right of the crackling flame. I placed the hard bound book that I had picked out from the hundreds that filled the shelves, on my lap, gently stroking it's hard, un even surface.

This book was one of my most precious of items, my most delicate of memories and one of the few things I kept with me from my past.

Again I stroked the cover with a shaky hand, rubbing soft circles into the spine as I traced the words etched in golden ink.

Wuthering Heights

I opened the book with care, treating the frail binding as gentle as a newborn child. I read the first passage of the story quickly, not paying much attention to the words.

"Not all of us have photographic memories," I said curtly.

"Photographic memory or not, I don't understand why you like it. The characters are ghastly people who ruin each others' lives. I don't know how Heathcliff and Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn't a love story, it's a hate story."

"You have some serious issues with the classics," I snapped.

"Perhaps it's because I'm not impressed by antiquity." He smiled, evidently satisfied that he'd distracted me. "Honestly, though, why do you read it over and over?" His eyes were vivid with real interest now, trying- again -to unravel the convoluted workings of my mind. He reached across the table to cradle my face in his hand. "What is it that appeals to you?"…

I smiled sadly, drifting from my reverie. It was said that when you changed, your human memories are fuzzy, that you may forget them completely, having them return to you later in life. Not for me. I remembered everything perfectly, every word said by myself and others etched into my brain forever. I didn't need to think to remember my answering reply.

"I'm not sure," I whispered to myself, repeating the words I had said on the day in question. "I think it's something about the inevitability. How nothing can keep them apart- not her selfishness, or his evil, or even death, in the end…."

His face was thoughtful as he considered my words. After a moment he smiled a teasing smile. "I still think it would be a better story if either of them had one redeeming quality."

"I think that may be the point," I said, disagreeing with my own memory. "Their love is their only redeeming quality."

"I hope you have better sense than that- to fall in love with someone to…malignant."

"It's a bit late for me to worry about who I fall in love with," I breathed, closing my forgotten book and snaking my arms around my center. "But even without the warning, I seem to have managed fairly well." I gasped, a dry sob stuck in my throat.

He laughed quietly. "I'm glad you think so."

"Well, I hope you're smart enough to stay away from someone so selfish. Catherine is really the source of all the trouble, not Heathcliff."

His dazzling smile light up his face, giving a not so gentle squeeze to my un-beating heart. His topaz eyes were dancing. "I'll be on my guard." He promised.

My entire frame rocked with the sobs that overwhelmed me then, my body shaking with my quiet cries. This was not unusual, myself breaking down just by hearing his velvet voice in only memories.

When the hysteria passed, and my sobs had quieted, I relaxed from my tense position, easing my arms from constricting around my center like a deadly boa. I straightened my back out and leaned back against the warm stone of the fireplace. I opened my eyes to see a dark figure leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. In my break down I must have not noticed him enter.

"How long have you been there?" I breathed, staring into his vibrant red eyes.

"Long enough." He responded, pushing away from the wall and gracefully walked close enough for the light from the fire to reflect off of his commonly beautiful features, his black cloak flowing with the motion; all vampires were gorgeous.

"Why are you here," I said, a bit annoyed that he had bothered me. Everyone here knew that when I was in the 'Den', it meant that I wanted to be alone with my thoughts.

The vampire was silent for a moment, staring into the hot embers of the fire. The red light from the flames danced around his face, playing beautifully with his black, pin straight hair that flowed slightly passed his shoulders. It gave his chalk white skin color, making him look almost human. The only give away was the milky red orbs that were his eyes.

"Do I need a reason to talk with a friend?" He said quietly, as if bored, his gaze shifting from the fire to my face, cocking an eyebrow questionably.

"I'm no friend worth having, Marcus." I sighed, standing up shakily and walking over to the book shelf to return Wuthering Heights to it's regular spot. I didn't bother trying to read again, it would be impossible without another break down and there was no way I would do that in front of Marcus…willingly.

Marcus made no comment, but watched as I shelved the book and walked over to the soft brown recliner nearest to the fire. His reluctance to speak was no mystery to me. Marcus never really spoke to others, I was the one exception. Even then he still spoke minutely. It was a few more long seconds before the silence became uncomfortable.

"Please hurry up, Marcus. I know that's not the reason why you are here." I breathed, as if exhausted.

Marcus exhaled and turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance. "Aro wants everyone of the guard and council to meet in the primary chamber." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully before speaking.

The primary chamber? The guard only met there when something serious and big was about to happen. There was not going to be a chance of skipping this meeting. I would no doubt be involved in the party that was probably leaving to annihilate some poor soul.

With a long sigh, I stood up, and with one last glance at the flickering fire, I turned to leave and return to my room. I would need my cloak if I were to be leaving.

"Bella," Marcus said softly, drawing my attention.

I turned around and stared at Marcus, his gaze still trained on the stone of the fireplace. He didn't seem as if he saw the conflagrant orange abundance in front of him. He was thinking deeply.

"Yes?" I said wearily, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He turned his profile toward me, his eyes on the ground for a second, then his crimson orbs met mine. He searched my gaze for something he couldn't find. My expression was blank of any emotion.

"Who were you talking to?" Marcus asked, his probing red eyes intent on my expression.

I dropped my gaze to the floor and let out a shaky breath. Marcus was the only one that seemed to care for me. He knew almost everything about my past; I had told him. He was the only one that listened, not that I told anyone except him, but he was there for me when I needed him. We loved each other like siblings, him my brother and I his sister. We had both felt the pain of losing a loved one, and we could sympathize with each other.

"I was just remembering…" I said, still staring at my feet. The fire flared and blazed brighter as Marcus walked toward me, his cloak churning the air around him, blowing into the flames. He laid his hand on my shoulder comfortingly, and waited for me to meet his gaze.

He knew what I meant and who I meant.

Marcus had a special gift. He could sense relationships, how strong someone was bonded to one another, and how deeply someone cared for them. He could tell I was not over exaggerating when I told him my story, of how deeply in love I was with him, of how much it hurt everyday just thinking of his name. We had had this discussion before, me fighting the tears that would never come. I never spoke of names or specific locations, but he knew most of the story.

He gave a soft squeeze to my shoulder and I finally lifted my eyes to his. The soft, milky red orbs were filled with understanding and love.

"Shall we go meet with the others, then?" He said, changing the subject. I took a deep breath before nodding weakly. He lifted his pale hand, motioning for me to lead the way.

* * * * * *

Author's Note: Took me about four days just to make this first chapter, so it may be a while till I get the next one up. I'm also working on 'The Muse' as well, so it may take even longer.

Reviews are M You can never get enough. ;)

-Nightongale