Bella

It's been a hundred years, Bella thought, a hint of longing surfacing in her mind, One hundred years.

One hundred years since she found out that she was a witch.
Forty years since Charlie passed away.
One hundred and two years since Edward left her.
Sixty years since the last werewolf had been spotted.

So many years. so long. So alone.

She was a witch. And she was still learning- still- how to survive.

---

She still remembered the day her mother had told her. The day had been bright and sunny; leaves blew gently across the lawn and birds chirped cheerfully. Her pain, she reminisced, her pain of losing Edward had not affected the order of the world at all. The sun still shined, the rain still fell, and the grass still grew. It had been incomprehensible to her how something so important would not affect the cosmic order of the universe at all. She couldn't understand.

She had turned nineteen, that day her mother told her. The day she revealed that she, too, was a witch. The day that her mother told her how she could spot other witches and wizards. That had been the day.

Charlie had never known.

But slowly, she had found them. The others.
Mark. Sarah. Luke. Her best friends in a world she did not know; a world she was slowly beginning to understand.

---

She had met Mark in the forest. He had been hiking; she had been practicing magic.

He'd practically attacked her after a tree fell, grabbing her arm and yanking her away.

"What are you doing?" He'd hissed, his eyes sharp and dangerous.

"I'm sorry." she'd replied, quietly, brushing her hair away from her face. And only when she winced from the pain of his grasp had he let her go.

Their meetings were always awkward. He'd teach her spells; magic. No talking allowed, he'd told her,concentrate.
But still, she sometimes managed to elicit a smile from the stoic magic man.

---

The days passed by eventlessly; rain clouds filled the sky, permeated the atmosphere. And Bella took this time to not only practice her growing knowledge in magic, but in coordination and grace as well.

She stood in the field, dispelled the rain around her so she wouldn't get wet. And she concentrated.

a flick of the wrist, grasp the air, point.

make your movements powerful.

She was trying to make the grass grow, to make the trees bend just so, when she saw him.

Edward.

Edward

He never forgot her. Sometimes, when it rained, he'd hear her voice complaining about the weather.
He thought of her always.always.
He regretted the moment he left her; hated himself for being so weak, for not trying hard enough.
And now, he was living with the only thing he had left: his memory of Bella.

A century had passed since he'd left; and Carlisle had decided to move back to Forks to re-establish his family. No-one would remember them, they were sure. It had been a hundred years, after all.

Edward had remained silent. Bella, he thought to himself, Bella would be...she'd be...

He couldn't bring himself to say it, to admit that she wasn't alive.

---

Forks was the same.
He was stuck by how little it had changed. It still rained, the forests were still there.

Not many houses had been built. The roads were still bumpy and the school was still standing.

And somehow-somehow- there was the lingering smell of Bella. She was there. Her presence--it was there. Even after a hundred years.

He smelled the air, inhaling her scent, wondering how it could possibly be there after a century.

---

He found her on accident.

He'd been out hunting; it was drizzling outside and the clouds were the perfect shade of gray.

A branch made little circles in the air next to him, its leaves dancing. Flowers twirled and the grass danced. Startled, he looked up; his breath caught in his throat and he staggered backwards, wondering if he was dreaming.

Bella.

A/N: you guys!

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