I almost didn't write this. I wanted to. I desperately wanted to. But I wasn't sure how it would be received.

For me, it was actually looking through the Twilight fanfiction archive that did it. Some of the plots were so clever - and people actually READ them! And REVIEWED! It shocked me. Since when did being intelligent garner any respect? Especially in fanfiction? Despite the lack of slash in this fandom, I was no longer wary. I knew what I had to do.

This fic may start out a little confusing. After all, there's amnesia involved, and the story's set in the future, although the plot does not focus on the fact it's set in the future. Just be patient and take it in stride; all will be explained as the story develops.

The school was isolated. Cut off from a highly technological society whose values were based on violence and sex and pop culture, the grandiose academy posed a sanctuary for the sons of rich people wishing to preserve their darlings from the contamination of a harsh, modern reality without actually having to accompany them.

Edward watched, idly, as thick forests passed the train window, and the machine made its way up the mountain. He was used to these old-fashioned methods of transportation and actually found more familiarity in these many duplicate schools he passed through than in the sleek, miniaturized devices of cities and the outside world, as depicted on the television set. He was comfortable "living in the past" because that was the only way he knew how, and had, for the last several decades.

He fiddled with the tags on his luggage, reading over and over the looping script that spelled out his name and ticket number. Still, even if he loved them, he was simultaneously very tired of these places, with their identical uniforms and halls and people, the only thing differing being the information he learned there. It was basically similar, but on a large scale, it became either more complex or censored depending on where he went. He'd read half a dozen of the same books for English, but looking at how many years of English he'd endured, that wasn't saying much. The only thing about these schools' curriculums that never varied were the core lessons and the sheer monotony. Edward wondered if anyone else felt the way he did about this educational system, which had him completing the requirements for one four- or three-year program shortly before shipping him off to the next, usually just as chatter about "college" started up. When exactly did one go about applying for one of these so-called universities, anyway?

The train's path began to level out from the previous slope, and Edward's trunk would have fallen off the seat, had he not caught it. Curious, he turned to the window again, this time opening it and peering outside.

The building was massive and looked like a cross between a castle and a fortress in war-time. Edward looked at the yellowing stronghold, with the paint turning to a sickly green much like the vines and moss that encased it, and he thought that this place must be very, very old indeed. He not only hoped it wouldn't collapse; he prayed.

Its resemblance to a fort as well as its location - near the top of a mountain - made Edward wonder if a war were to actually commence, would the school be safe from aerial attacks? Surely even the smallest tremors in the land, much less an earthquake, would send the walls crumbling.

The train stopped at a distance where the trees covered the academy from sight, and warily, Edward thought how he hadn't seen the sun in ages, and could not remember the last time he'd been in it. Nearly everywhere he went had awful weather or thick forests or was located entirely inside or underground.

The black, beetle-like car that came for him was driven by a woman whose face he kept trying to get a glimpse of beneath her hat, only to fail. He could've sworn he'd seen her somewhere before and was beginning to feel strange at the onset of déjà vu. Well, whatever she looked like, he could tell by what little he could see of her that she was very beautiful.

They drove in silence, Edward sitting alone with his luggage in the back. The entire way, he turned a myriad of thoughts over in his head. Nothing important, really. Just some books he'd read and a movie or two.

-

He had come in late again and missed roommate assignments and orientation. It wasn't Edward's fault, though; he was not the one in charge of transferring him from place to place. (Once or twice, he idly wondered who was, but did not dwell too much on it.)

As a result, he had to collect his uniform at the desk, as well as his schedule, a pamphlet of the rules, and a "class pin" to attach to his new uniform's lapel. The balding man at the desk handed Edward his room key and gestured vaguely to a location on a gigantic map posted on the wall beside him. Edward managed to summon up a bit of enthusiasm for his "Thank you," deciding that the man was about as used to giving this speech as Edward was receiving it.

As he made his way through the corridors, he made sure to glance over at the windows on the classroom doors, inconspicuously checking out the people inside, many of whom inconspicuously looked back. He was still wandering the halls when whatever class period that was in session ended, and students spilled out into the space around him. They were all male; this time around, he had not come to a school with an adjoining dorm or nearby aptly-named "sister school" for girls. The only women for miles were teachers and staff members.

Voices crowded around him: both the loud, verbal ones of the mouth and the whispery, underlying ones that he preferred to ignore, the ones that echoed insecurities and perversities, that sometimes were so true to what people said out loud and their visible feelings that they frightened Edward a bit. Such was the curse of schizophrenia - albeit very clever, very easy to function around schizophrenia. At least he was in a crowd; he loved crowds. The chatter of "real" speech made the "other" kind easier to ignore.

He continued to wander, perhaps pretending to be lost, perhaps not really looking for the dorms, even as the boys gradually retreated to yet another class. He occupied his mind by asking himself questions about everything he saw and comparing it to what he'd seen before, not in any real hurry to rejoin the dreariness of classroom life.

He passed by a room with an open door and a plaque atop the doorway that read School Physician. Without thinking, he glanced inside, even walking across the hall towards it for a closer look.

A shiver shot through him the instant he saw the doctor's back to him. Again, the eerie feeling of déjà vu, of an implacable recognition. Like the woman driving the beetle, the man was strangely familiar, and despite the fact he could not see his face, Edward could sense that the man was attractive; everything from the doctor's fluid movement as he wrote to his perfect shape and form screamed it.

Edward wrenched himself away from the door and began to walk quickly down the hall, not frightened so much as panicked, and for no discernable reason.

-

He'd read somewhere that insomnia was a sure sign of mental illness. And maybe it was just him - it was probably just him - but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

As per usual, he spent a better portion of his first night at his new school writing his many strange symptoms over and over until they nearly blackened the page.

Inability to digest/hold down solid foods
Insomnia
VoicesHe scribbled them down in a thousand ways, with synonyms, with descriptions, until his head nearly spun. No one could survive without sleep, so perhaps he was currently in a coma. He certainly couldn't remember having a life before these schools, and it would explain why few things seemed to change - like a recurring dream, but not quite. Perhaps the voices were his family members begging him to wake up.

But why couldn't he eat? Maybe it was a symbolic thing. Something to do with the accident that made him comatose in the first place, or merely the fact that he had to get his nutrients through an IV now that he wasn't ever awake. But suppose he wasn't living in a very vivid coma-induced dream-state; suppose he was in a mental asylum somewhere? Rocking on his heels, murmuring about the devil as he hallucinated this life?

Edward's insecurities looked back at him from where they lay on the page, making him feel a strange anguish, coupled with extreme mental exhaustion. Something in the back of his mind was picking, pecking at him, just as it always did when he pondered. Also just as always, the thought lay just out of reach. He couldn't identify what his subconscious was trying to tell him.

He placed the notebook down with a sigh. It was four in the morning, and already he had read and reread the rule pamphlet given to him at the front desk. The moon outside his window seemed to be looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to entertain it with acts of normalcy.

Edward decided to go for a walk.

-

It hadn't been too much trouble slipping outside, as the academy had little security. Then again, where could the boys run off to? They were on a mountain, surrounded by forests, and the next train wouldn't come until the holidays. Everyone was trapped until Thanksgiving, and that was over two months away.

The fresh air would hopefully aid in clearing Edward's mind. He listened to the gentle rustle of leaves and the unintelligible sounds of the forest's unknown innards. It was a crisp night, despite the fact it would not technically be autumn for a few days yet.

He came to a clearing of open sky and let himself feel awe in the face of the endless night. The single thing Edward would never reproach these schools with was the fact he sometimes got to see stars. He never tired of them; millions of twinkling points on a never-ending plane. He'd heard of Native American legends describing stars as windows in the sky through which departed souls could watch and check on the loved ones that they'd left behind on Earth. For a moment, he was caught up wondering if there was anyone looking at him, and if so, who.

The sounds of other people pulled Edward out of his reveries. Cursing them for interrupting his thoughts, he stood for a moment, debating whether to stay, head inside, or head in the opposite direction when a scream of desperation made the decision for him.

"Please let go-!"

"Shut him up!"

Caught off guard, Edward looked around frantically for a moment before realizing the direction from which the voices were coming from. As soon as he did, he was on his feet and moving towards them almost without thinking.

"Dammit, Jerry! Don't let him get away!"

"I'm trying! C'mon, guys, help me with this!"

"We'll show you, faggot..."

Edward wasn't sure how he managed to get there so quickly; he only knew that the boys who were currently stomping and spitting at their victim on the ground did not immediately notice him. He pulled one of them away with more ease than he expected before sending the guy in his grip crashing into the rest of the group.

They got the hint. Within a moment, the gang was scrambling to their feet, screaming, "Monster!" before running for the school building like victims in a horror film.

Edward offered a hand to the boy they had been beating, who, instead of looking fearful, was full of amazement.

"Thank you," he whispered, taking the hand. Upon contact, he winced. "You're so cold..."

"It's a cold night," Edward replied, nonchalant. The boy looked skeptic, but he nodded anyway, and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

"Are you alright? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you." The boy laughed, uneasily. "God, I'm such an idiot. Those guys have been after me for ages. I shouldn't have... But thank you. I mean, if it hadn't been for you just happening to be around, I doubt anyone would have heard me..."

The boy was looking curiously at Edward. "Say - not that this place isn't huge, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd seen you around before."

"I'm new," Edward replied, curtly. "Just transferred in today."

"Are you a freshman?" He nodded. The boy smirked. "I suppose that makes me older than you. Though to be honest, you don't look like a freshman, in the sense you look more mature. And people say I'm much too young-looking for my age, so I suppose that all doesn't matter much."

It was true - the boy's looks were rather youthful, with many of the soft features one associated with prepubescence. He was shorter than Edward by a head or so and had a heart-shaped, feminine face, pale skin, and the largest pair of brown eyes Edward had ever seen. Or perhaps they weren't large so much as deep with intelligence; they seemed endless.

The boy fidgeted under his stare and pushed a shock of brown hair out of his eyes, which darted to the side. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Edward."

"Just Edward?" The boy smiled, and again, he felt a twinge of déjà vu.

"Cullen. Edward Cullen."

"Cullen," the boy repeated. With a nod, he continued, "I approve." Then, looking into his eyes, he inquired, "Aren't you going to ask for my name? Not that you have to," he said, quickly. "It's very ugly. I don't really like it."

After mulling it over for a moment, Edward stated, "Well, I'll need something to call you by. And It's only fair, since I told you mine."

The boy sighed loudly. "Yes, but you have a nice, normal name." At the dead-eyed expression Edward locked onto him, he blushed. "Oh, fine. I'm Bela Cygne. Isn't that awful? Just like a girl, or that guy who played Dracula in those old horror movies. He had an accent. What was his name? Lugosi. Bela Lugosi."

That same feeling he'd experienced around the driver and the doctor heightened, and suddenly, Edward realized that it was quiet. Completely, utterly silent.

"It's quiet," he said, suddenly. At the look he received from Bela, he recovered, "Oh, not your name. I just mean... it's very quiet in general."

Bela nodded, slowly. "It has been for a while," he said, "since you drove those idiots off. Thank you again for that, by the way."

Edward nodded, almost mechanically. "Right. Well. I should probably be getting back. It's rather late. And you have injuries."

"I'm fine," Bela insisted. "I've endured worse." As if to prove it, he walked in a full circle. "Honestly, I'm all right."

"I still think you should go to the infirmary." Edward touched Bela's shoulder and steered him towards the general direction of the school. Under his breath, he heard Bela mutter, "No wonder you sent those guys running." How strange - Edward didn't think he was being rough...

They slipped back into the school without being caught - not that that was any surprise. However, they did have a hard time finding the infirmary, since Bela insisted on leading the way - being Edward's "senior" - despite not being entirely good with directions himself. When they finally arrived, Bela sheepishly apologized and thanked Edward again before knocking on the school physician's door.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

The man appeared so quickly that Bela nearly jumped out of his skin. Before Edward could get a good look at the man or either boy could explain the situation, the doctor had grabbed Bela by the shoulders and begun pushing him inside the room. Flustered, the boy looked over his shoulder and called, "Goodnight, Edward! Thanks again!"

Edward merely nodded in reply, surprised not only by the doctor's haste, but his face - he had managed a glimpse of it - and he was now almost certain he'd seen the man somewhere else before...

Suddenly feeling a profound mental exhaustion, Edward decided to head back to his dorm, thinking that perhaps this would be the night he finally slept.

At no such luck.

He lay in his dark room, staring at the ceiling, the murmur of dreamy voices melding into the backdrop of trees rustling and the occasional employee stalking the hall. With the voices of the sleeping surrounding him again, Edward couldn't help but trace his thoughts back to the Cygne boy.

A little while after Bela's attackers had left, there had been silence. Literally, silence; no voices. They must have been quite a ways away from the school, since the voices always popped up in places where people were, too, but right then in the clearing, even with the other boy present, Edward had heard nothing but the sounds of the forest.

I've been writing non-stop for ages, but I haven't really approved of anything enough to submit it to for a while. I hope you enjoy this.

Mercy when you R&R!!! I've never written for this fandom, so I have no ideas what to expect (in terms of feedback, what's popular or cliché, etc.)...