A/N: Okay, my first Twilight-based fanfic! Please R&R, I'd really like to know what you think!!
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Some say that perfection is not something that exists in this world. It is unattainable, nonexistent. The cynic in all of us grasps to ascertain that perfection is but a myth when our own humanity shows our personal faults and mistakes. And yet, the secret optimistic that lurks in us all wishes desperately to find that perfection. It is so desired by us all, that when we do find it, whether from within ourselves or not, it is not something taken lightly.
Staring at perfection was something that Isabella Swann could never get used to. The perfection in human form before her was both terrifying and alluring. It made her heartbeat quicken just as much in anticipation as undimmed fear. Staring into those ebony eyes, perfection of dark eyelashes beneath a fringe of casually, messily perfect hair, Bella felt the mechanical pencil poised over her lab book fall from her suddenly-limp fingers.
"You're staring." Edward's velvety voice was colored with amusement, as always. Bella felt a blush sneak across her cheeks, a reaction that only entertained her companion more. He reached over, a devilish smile on his lips, and returned the pencil to her hand. If she had thought her hand felt limp before, now it seemed as though she couldn't move it. His ice-cold hands melded hers around the pencil. The blush had faded; she was staring at him, dumbfounded as always.
"What?" he asked at her silence, his face losing its amusement. He stared into her brown eyes, searching for an answer in their chestnut depths.
"You're just. . ." – she looked down at the table to try and organize her thoughts – "so. . ." She knew what she wanted to say. Edward Cullen, you are perfect. Instead, she blushed. He smiled back at her, and with a sudden affection, smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch made her skin burn icy-hot. She wished she felt brave enough to reach out smooth his hair. Her hands suddenly itched to do so, but embarrassment at her own non-perfection kept her hands frozen on the desk. Suddenly she realized that his hand was still upon her head; he moved it so that his fingers brushed her cheek, staring into her eyes with surprising intensity that made her breath catch.
In an instant, he dropped his hand and turned back to the lab book before him. Turning, Bella saw the door swing open and the teacher who was proctoring their detention entered. If only they hadn't been late so many times. But Bella couldn't keep track of time with him around. She sighed, wishing this afternoon could be spent somewhere where they wouldn't have to worry who was watching them. She felt her mind skip away to fantasies of them together somewhere, perhaps in that meadow they had gone a few months before. Suddenly, she blushed, and felt grateful for the millionth time that he couldn't read her thoughts as he could with everyone else. Glancing over at him slyly, she was surprised to catch his eye. If only she could stare at him without his knowing. But, it was difficult to do anything without her boyfriend knowing. It was difficult going out with a vampire.
After detention ended, the two of them walked to the parking lot. Upon seeing her old, dusty, red truck parked in the spot in front of them, Bella's eyebrows knit. Like every other morning, Edward had driven her in. Why did he insist on her driving home alone? She had been looking forward to their time alone together before she had to deal with her father's lecturing on receiving another detention for tardiness.
"Edward?" she asked. He shook his head. She took a step closer, fear sickening her heart. What was this? Why did his perfect eyes darken, why did. . .? He stepped back in response, keeping a yard between them. And then she understood.
"Going with Emmett?" she whispered.
"Are you worrying about me?" he joked, but his face was still tight; he was thirsty, and she smelled too good to him. Uncomfortable, Bella crossed her arms across her chest and looked at the ground. He laughed quietly.
"Don't worry about me, Bella." Hearing him say her name in his velvet voice made her shiver. "I should worry about you," he joked. And then, joking gone, eyes serious and locked with hers: "Promise me you'll be safe."
"Promise," she whispered. She couldn't say no to those perfect eyes. He lifted a hand, as though to stroke her cheek, then stopped himself and waved instead.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised. And then, he was in his shiny silver Volvo, and was gone.
That evening was as bad as Bella had feared. When she got home around four o'clock, Charlie had reprimanded her for fifteen minutes straight on managing her time. By five, she had finished her homework and had nothing else to do. Her open window only reminded her of who wasn't coming.
After sitting, restless, for twenty minutes, with nothing to do but stare at the wall, Bella jumped up, grabbed her windbreaker, scribbled a quick note to her father, who had gone to watch a game at a friend's house, and left the house. She walked quickly until she came to the suffocatingly green forest by the side of her house. Entering it, she could almost imagine that Edward stood beside her. The path was wide and well-worn, and she followed it for a while, until she came to a large clearing the size of a football field. Completely comfortable, she lay herself down on the soft, grassy ground. And before she knew it, her eyelids fluttered closed and she fell asleep.
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"Bella!" Even in her dreams she heard it and recognized the voice, but she was used to hearing his voice in her dreams. The panicked tone, however, frightened her.
"Bella!" This time it was closer, the panic unmistakable. The terror in the perfect voice made her force herself awake. And then a loud crash of thunder echoed. She sat bolt upright to finder herself in the center of a large clearing.
"BELLA!" He was screaming now.
"Edward!" she called back. "Edward?!" And suddenly, on the edge of the forest, he was there, and running for her. In a moment he was standing a few yards from her, his face tight with fear. Fear for her.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. Despite the distance, she knew he'd hear.
"Alice," he called back, loud enough for her to hear. "She saw that something bad was going to happen to you. I ran here as fast as I could, but. . ."
She understood. But he hadn't had a chance to hunt. And now, his fear had fueled him to run here, to focus on tracking her scent, one that he couldn't shake off easily. Then suddenly, his angelic face contorted in sudden understanding.
"Bella!" he cried. "Get over there!" Whatever was making him sound so desperate greatly frightened Bella, but nothing could make her move away from him, when she wanted so horribly to be with him.
And then, a sudden static energy filled the air, and without warning a flash of lightning clove the space between them. Eyes streaming with the brightness, Bella blinked and tried to see. Even with spots clouding her vision, she knew something was wrong. Edward wasn't where he was when she had been temporarily blinded. Where had he gone? Suddenly, her heartbeat accelerated with wild panic. Her eyes were still filled with blotches as she scanned the tree line. And suddenly, her heartbeat stopped.
"EDWARD!" She ran, in her clumsiness tripped and sliding on the grass in the darkness of the approaching storm. Thunder crashed above. Thunder that had resulted from that lightning strike. Thunder follows lightning. Never before had that fact seemed so important to her. Why couldn't it be the other way around? A warning?
He was lying on the ground. She threw herself to his side, forgetting his thirstiness, forgetting everything except him. He was staring up at the sky, his black eyes unseeing and empty. She did not know how many more times she fruitlessly cried his names and plucked at his sleeve. She did not even realize it had started raining. After a few moments, his eyes slowly closed. Now she was released from their spell, and was aware of her crazily accelerating heartbeat, of the cold sweat that ran down her back, of the wild fear that made her tremble.
The slow raindrops suddenly became a downpour, soaking through her thin shirt. Edward still didn't move, except for the unperceivable rise and fall of his marble chest as he breathed in and out. Her hands were resting on his chest, locked onto the collar of his shirt.
And then her hand slid to his chest pocket, where she felt a small, hard square. Reaching into his pocket, she extracted the small silver cell phone. Her hands were shaking so badly now that the cell phone fell from her fingers into the suddenly-muddy ground. With a cry of fear, she dove for it in the darkness of the clearing. Another lightning strike, nearby, too nearby, made the clearing suddenly bright. In the brief light she was able to locate the phone. Jamming her finger into a random button, praying he had speed-dial, Bella held the phone to her ear. After a moment, she removed it.
"Calling Carlisle" read the white square of light. Her eyes could barely focus. She pressed it quickly to her ear. It rang once. Twice. And then,
"Hello?"
"Carlisle?" she asked. It came out as a moan.
"Bella?" he asked, confused. "Are you alright?"
"Edward–" she began tremulously, and then felt a sob grow in her chest. And suddenly, the reality of what had happened hit her and she collapsed in violent sobs. Carlisle was talking, but she couldn't hear him over her own tears.
"Edward," she cried desperately, dropping the phone and pressing her face to his chest. And even if he felt her tears soaking his already-soaked shirt, Edward didn't move.
His body was laid on the couch in the Cullens' living room. Carlisle had carried him into his house, while Esme had practically carried Bella in as well. She had seated the girl in another sitting room, and after an hour, during which Alice had called Charlie and Esme had sat patiently with Bella, her tears abated.
"I-is he," she managed to choke out after her sobs had diminished. Esme lovingly smoothed back her soaked hair. She was freezing, she realized. Her fingers found that they clutched a blanket around her.
"He's alright," Esme murmured. Her eyes contradicted the tone of her voice; they sparkled with sadness.
"Carlisle–" began Bella.
"He's with him now. Nothing's wrong with him."
"Then–"
"Edward's just isn't ready to wake up."
"He's asleep?" Her voice was rough and strangled-sounding. Esme hesitated. She began to say something, then stopped herself. Finally, she drew a breath.
"Jasper says. . .he can't sense him." Esme looked at the ground, her sadness for her son making her lovely features breathtakingly sorrowful.
Bella leapt up from the couch. Before she made it to the doorway, Esme caught her.
"Bella," she cautioned, her voice quiet. "You still aren't–" But she left Bella push away her hand and didn't object when the girl threw herself to her knees by the side of the couch. Looking at him, she saw his eyes move beneath the lids, flicking as though watching a scenery pass quickly by.
"REM sleep." Carlisle's voice came from behind her. "Rapid eye movement." She looked at him, wrenching her eyes away from the broken perfection that lay before him. He stood with his arms around Alice's shoulders. Looking at the other girl, Bella was shocked to see even her face sorrowful.
"Alice," she croaked out. The other girl shook her head.
"I can't see anything," she replied. "It's as though. . .he has to decide to wake up. And he hasn't yet."
"What happened?" asked Bella. "Why didn't you see. . ."
"I didn't see him getting hit until. . .he chose to."
"What do you mean?" whispered Bella.
"He ran forward to try and knock you down. . ." Alice's voice, so perfect and melodic, wavered. "And that's when he got hit." There was silence. "At least. . ." Alice's voice dwindled away. "At least he knows you're alright."
"Then why isn't he waking up?" cried Bella.
"Sweetheart," Esme said from the doorway, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you."
"Why not?" cried Bella. "I was his g-girlfr–" she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, not with the past tense.
"Bella," Alice began carefully, her eyes bright again, "would you do anything to save him?"
"Yes," she answered immediately, turning to the girl before her.
"Why do you say that, Alice?" asked Carlisle.
"No, don't, Alice." Esme spoke so quickly that Bella could barely separate the words.
"Bella has a right to know. . .if Jasper's right and he's just in his own mind, then why can't she enter his mind and save him? Convince him to come back?" Alice spoke so quickly that Bella would have had trouble catching the words even if she hadn't been exhausted emotionally and physically.
"I'll do it." Her voice shook, but Bella's tone was firm.
And somewhere, gentle light was streaming through lacy curtains into a second-floor room in a large mansion. A boy with perfect brown hair fluttered his perfect eyelashes and opened his green eyes to the bedroom he had slept in for the past seventeen years.
"Edward," a voice said. He sat up slowly and turned to see a black-haired girl smiling. "I'm so glad you're awake." And looking around at his bedroom and the clear sun streaming in the window, Edward was glad to be awake, too.