Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone related to Twilight. I write for fun, and no money is being made off of this work.

Author's Note: This story came to me and pretty much wrote itself. Please read, review, and enjoy! The more reviews/favorites/follows, etc, the faster I will update. I get my motivation from my lovely readers. Also, anonymous reviews are always welcome. Thanks in advance. =)

Chapter 1- Empty

Carlisle's POV

Forks, Washington. The most dreary, depressing city in the continental United States. To make the matters of the ever-increasing depression worse, my wife of many, many years had just recently left me. Three months later, I was still at a loss. I lived my life in a haze. I was confused, lost. An emotional train wreck. I found myself absent-mindedly wandering around Forks City Park. It was surprisingly not raining, although the clouds threatened to burst at any moment.

It was a cool, early autumn day. The trees were in that awkward transitional stage, halfway through their seasonal transformation. Half of their leaves were still green, the other half ranged from yellow to bright red. Normally the transition from summer to fall was beautiful to me, an enjoyable sight. This year, all it reminded me of was all the autumns my now ex-wife, Esme, and I spent admiring the breathtaking scenery, recalling how many years we spent together, and how many more we would spend.

"We'll be sitting here together, admiring Mother Nature's beauty every year from now until forever", she would always say to me. I took the word "forever" more seriously than most. We would always kiss on it, as though it were an unbreakable vow. It was nothing more than a lie.

I found a bench and eased myself onto it, sighing heavily as I did so. The park was nearly deserted, as most people expected rain, but I didn't care. I didn't care if it rained or stormed. I was hoping it would storm, then maybe I would get struck by lightning and an end would be put to my miserable existence.

I had been staring blankly into nothing for about half an hour when movement in the distance caught my eye. A young woman, who couldn't have been much older than eighteen or nineteen, appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and took a seat on the ground under a large, color-changing oak tree, about ten yards from me. She glanced quickly at me, no expression evident on her face. I returned the same expression to her, simply acknowledging her acknowledgement of me. I couldn't have smiled even the slightest of smiles, had I felt the desire to do so. I hadn't smiled in three months. I was beginning to believe that I had forgotten how to, and never would again.

I watched the young woman settle under the giant tree. She freed her long, brown hair from the inside of her jacket and pulled it around the sides of her neck, as though it were a scarf. She fished a book out of her miniaturized knapsack and opened it. Her purple jacket and dark blue jeans contrasted nicely against the colors of the surroundings, and pretty much rounded out the color spectrum.

I tried not to let my eyes overstay their welcome in her sanctuary under the tree, so I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. After several minutes of torturing myself by letting my mind reminisce of what once was, and thinking about what will never be again, I opened my eyes and slowly lifted my head. I glanced at my watch, then over at the girl under the tree. As I was turning my head toward her, I saw her quickly turn her head from my direction. I looked behind me to see if there was anyone or anything there. Nothing. Not even a squirrel. I thought nothing of it and shifted in my seat, so next time I decided to watch her, I wouldn't be so obvious. I could see her well out of the corner of my eye, but it was impossible for her to tell. Why was I so intent on keeping an eye on her? I guess I've always been the protective type.

After several minutes of balancing her on the periphery of my vision, I realized she hadn't turned a single page of her book. I looked over at her, no longer spying, and noticed a troubled look on her face. Why didn't I pick up on that when she walked by? Maybe I was too preoccupied with my own distress. She looked over at me, looking at her. I didn't turn my head and attempted to better read her expression. Our eyes met for about ten seconds. The look in her eyes was a tell-all. She was deeply upset. Lonely. In need of a shoulder to lean on. I adjusted almost uncomfortably in my seat, breaking our visual connection. I could have easily been looking into my own eyes. I couldn't just sit there knowing it was possible I could ease her pain. I would want someone to do the same for me.