My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles stark white against the black. My eyes flickered to the mirror, checking their color, measuring my thirst – coal black – then down to the speedometer. The needle was inching past 100, and I turned my steely gaze back to the onyx road, my headlights breaking through the sheets of rain.

I hadn't been back to Forks for 80 years; now was the time, after all these years, that I was going back.

I pulled silently onto Main Street, slowly driving down toward the center of town, prolonging the inevitable. There were no other cars on the road, and my eyes swept over the shop fronts and houses vacantly staring with their equally empty quality. I ground my teeth together, my jaw clenching. I didn't know if I preferred it this way or not. At least no one would be gawking at me from behind a curtain.

As I neared my destination the speedometer slowed to 20, to 10, to less than 5. It appeared that the whole town had turned out. Every available spot appeared to be taken, and even those never meant to be used as one. I blocked the lane as I became too exasperated to search any longer. I slid out from my car, raising my gaze to the small building in front of me.

I hadn't really expected to meet Bella at a funeral parlor.

My shoulders drooped, and I slouched toward the door. I guess I could be thankful that most of the adults who had known me would probably be gone now. Some of the teenagers too. But there was bound to be those who remembered. And that's what I feared. I paused, my fingers on the warping wood of the door. I almost bolted then, but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't say goodbye one last time. And never was a long time.

Curious eyes looked up as the door creaked open, and I struggled not to grimace. Slowly, their eyes turned back to their previous positions, and they resumed their subdued conversations. Today was a time I wished I couldn't hear what they were thinking.

As they slowly forgot about my presence – only slightly, I could still feel it tingling at the edge of their thoughts – I turned my sight on the polished chestnut colored coffin. There were three figures standing there – a woman and two men – but I didn't see Jacob. I couldn't stop the small relief that went through me at that fact. He must've passed on before Bella.

"Didn't think you'd make it." His husky voice was still there, though quiet.

I closed my eyes briefly. "Jacob." I pivoted, turning to look at the man who'd once been my rival. My eyes widened slightly at his changed appearance.

Jacob had always been tall, but he'd lost a little height with age. He remained muscular, but judging by his eyes – which were slightly rheumy – he'd lost the reflexes of his teenage years. I took in his eyes again. Though they were tired, they still kept their sparkling quality. He was extremely suspicious of me.

I grinned – more of a grimace really – and held my hands out, palm up, by my waist. "Jacob," I said again carefully, showing him that I meant no harm.

"It's okay." His quiet acceptance made me blink.

"What?"

Jacob sighed, stretching his back. I heard the creaks and pops as his bones moved. "I had a feeling you'd be here."

I took in his words silently.

I'd fought with myself on this decision. She would have changed. I knew Bella wasn't going to be the 18 year old girl I'd left behind – when I abandoned her and my affections. There had been no one since then. Well, no one who held the same charm Bella had held for me. There had been others, but compared to Bella, they'd just been acquaintances. I'd killed the flame we had, killed love completely in me. By now I'd mostly forgotten the human emotions she had brought back in me. What I was afraid of the most was that I wouldn't recognize her under the years that had passed when I had left.

"I leave as soon as I—"

Jacob held up a withered hand to silence me. "Really, Edward, it's okay." I glanced sharply at him. Jacob's face held none of the hatred I'd left behind. He had been there to pick up the shattered pieces of Bella – how I had left her – and the years had whittled away the hate and suspicion of me. "You have just as much a right to say goodbye as anyone," he said resignedly.

"I'll only say goodbye," I promised, laying my hand carefully on his shoulder. Under mine, I could feel the frailty of the former wolf. In that instant, I knew that as soon as we had left – as soon as the treat had left – the werewolf anomaly had gone. There had been no need for protection.

Jacob patted my pale hand with his tanned one. "Not many will remember."

I didn't nod; he knew I understood. I brushed past him gently, my eyes refocusing on my objective.

The coffin stood gleaming in the center of the front, multicolored flowers surrounding her and hurting my eyes in their brightness. I waited patiently for the humans in front of me to finish; they were sniffing quietly, and I didn't recognize them. New faces since we had left, I deduced.

I took a deep, unneeded breath as I steeled myself and stepped up to the coffin.

Bella's face was the picture of peace and tranquility. I gave a small gasp as my eyes took her in. She had aged – had changed – yes, but I still saw the girl I had fell in love with.

I pictured her wide, brown eyes when she'd first learned what I was. And I remembered her acceptance of it – her acceptance of me – and it brought a bitter smile to my lips. She had wanted nothing but to love me, to live her life with me forever.

But it was not to be. I'd realized that on her birthday, on the day that Jasper had succumbed to his instincts and attacked her. I distinctly remembered the feral, animalistic look on his face, and felt as if it were a mirror of my own. I knew then that I had to sever the ties with her, sever the ties that kept her to me. And I had done it in the only way I knew possible: by breaking her heart.

And I had. I watched her eyes as they registered distinct emotions: disbelief, shock, and acceptance. That was what hurt me the most. The fact that she believed that I didn't feel for her, never really loved her, thought it was fake. The pain had clawed me on the inside, and I felt as if my heart had been ripped out and all the emotions I had felt in the last months were exploding inside me. Abruptly it had stopped, and I couldn't look at her anymore. I avoided her eyes, avoided the betrayal there, and had ran. I ran away, and though I'd never forgiven myself, I contented myself with the bitter knowledge that she had found someone she could love. She created a life for herself.

I looked into her face again, and slowly, I reached out a quivering hand to stroke her cheek. Bella was cold, but I still expected to feel the warmth and see the blush in her cheeks. Of course, that wouldn't happen. Regretfully, I pulled my hand away, caressing her soft gray-brown hair as I did so. She had really aged gracefully, and I wondered, if I had aged along with her, if I would have aged as she did. I wondered, too, if she had forgiven me. If she had forgotten.

My musing was interrupted when a small, timid voice spoke up. "Excuse me?" I was reminded so much of Bella that I was startled, and when I turned I thought it was her. "How did you know my mom?" I realized then that of course it wasn't her. It couldn't be. I realized how it must look to her. A strange teenager, alone and without parents, standing at the coffin of her mother several decades his senior.

"We used to go to—" I cut off, breaking out of my nostalgia. "My grandfather knew her; I'm here in his place," I said smoothly, willing her with my eyes to forget my blunder.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Well, let me introduce you." I followed her, and she led me to what I knew to be her siblings.

The two men were standing there somberly, and immediately I was struck by the likeness of them to a teen Jacob. They were possibly in their thirties and I knew them to be twins. The woman was the eldest.

"This is Henry," she told him, pointing to the one on the left, "and this is Edward." I tried not to flinch as she introduced the second. So it seems Bella hadn't completely gotten over my leaving. That made me incredibly sad. Even though years had passed, she still thought of me.

"Nice to meet you." I shook their hands politely. Their eyes were the same brown as Bella's, the deep brown that had more depth than meets the eye. I realized that the woman who was practically the mirror image of Bella hadn't introduced herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't seem to catch your name." I turned to her as I made my voice as detached as possible.

I needed to get out of here. Now. I was assaulted by too many memories, too many similarities.

"Oh, I'm Marie." She sounded flustered now, chiding herself for forgetting such a thing, and I took that as my cue to leave.

"It was nice to meet you all," I hear myself say fluidly, still detached. "I'm sorry; I have to leave."

Marie appeared startled, but she quickly recovered. "Thank you for coming. I'm sure she would have appreciated it." I nodded. My head was starting to spin. I really had to leave. Now. I couldn't stand the memories of Bella that they had, that I had missed. I walked briskly past them, my eyes now boring into the wood of the door.

"Edward?" Jacob tried grabbing my arm, and missed. I stopped anyway.

"Thank you," I whispered, "But I have to go."

Jacob didn't say anything. I could hear the suppressed thoughts that wheeled through his head as he tried to decide on the right thing to say. I resumed my walking, pushing gently through the door.

I practically ran to my car, and once there, I sat in the leather seats and panted heavily. I had missed so much. I'd brought on so much pain, and I wasn't even sure if she had healed completely. Her son was my namesake. And I was sure it wasn't a coincidence.

I turned the keys roughly, and my car started with a quiet purr.

I was done.

There was no point in doing this anymore, no point in pretending that I was okay. Her belief back on that day had broken me. I realized now, with her death, that I could never, ever be with her. It had never been meant to be. It was impossible for me to age; therefore, it was impossible for me to be with her. Not that I'd even be with her if I did age. I knew she was in heaven, and I knew that was the place I would never reach.

There was one thing I could do now. I had to go to them. Alice would know now – now that I had made my plans concrete – what I was going to do. By the time she got to me, it would be done.

I pulled out of Forks with no accompaniment of rain. The road stretched out in front of me, glowing with the sun that had finally shown its face. My tinted windows allowed no sunlight in, but it would happen soon enough.

The Volturi couldn't ignore the unveiling I would do in Italy.

Because, without Bella living, I had no purpose to live myself. I only needed to disappear, never to haunt the world again.