Ok so…this is my first Twilight fiction (unless you count "Prince of Night") and as you could probably tell from my profile, I have some difficulty in breaking into new categories…thus…bear with me. Ahem, so, that's it really.

The quiet ringing of my cellphone woke me as the first weak beams of sun filtered through the filthy window.

Of course, I hadn't slept since 1918, but in a very real sense I was woken from the coma-like state I so easily slipped into lately.

The greater part of me wanted to silence the phone and drift back into the place where nothing was expected of me, and I could give myself over completely to the beast that was slowly devouring my insides… but some shred of dutiful loyalty must have survived, because instead, I pushed flash.

"Hello?" I was surprised at how perfectly composed the greeting was…no hint of the turmoil within. I didn't have long to dwell on this fact, as I quickly identified the caller. "Rose? What do you…?" The question was not even fully formed before I knew what, or rather, who, this phone call was about.

I stiffened, the aching in my empty chest quickly reaching a firey pitch.

"Edward…I was strictly instructed not to call you, but I thought you had a right to know."

There was a hint of smugness above her usual cocky tone—it did not go unnoticed. Struggling to focus on her words rather than delve into her thoughts, I forced my voice to remain calm. "Either tell me or don't, Rosalie. I'm not in the mood—"

"Of course you're not; you never are, are you?"She heaved a sigh, and it took all my strength to remain silent. "Alice had a vision, Edward. About Bella."

It was pathetic, ridiculous, but even now…the sound of her name, the name I so carefully avoided in my thoughts, ripped visciously at the hole. I had no more care for her words, listening…

Who knew Bella had a suicidal streak? I wouldn't have thought she had it in her… It certainly solves things though—

My breath caught in my chest as my mind froze—even the pain seemed shocked into submission. "Rosalie," I choked, speaking quickly on what was left in my lungs. "Alice saw this? Alice saw Bella…" Words failed me. I could not finish the sentence.

I would get on a plane—I would get on a plane right now, I would be in Forks in a few short hours—I would stop her—I would beg her forgiveness for ever leaving her side—I would feel her heart beating in her chest, see the blood rush to her cheeks—

"She jumped off a cliff, Edward. It's been hours since Alice saw it, she's long dead by now. It's over."

I was capable of moving with such speed that a human would see barely more than a blur as I passed, but in that moment, my movement was agonizingly slow. I pulled the phone away from my ear, shut it, set it down on the bed beside me. My mind was blank, and I forcefully kept it that way…though subconcsiously I was searching for an answer, for something that would contradict what I had just heard. She promised… But a promise could be broken. I had proven that the day I left her.

There was only one way to know for sure…one way to alleviate my fears or prove them beyond the shadow of a doubt.

In a flash the phone was back in my hand. I waited impatiently as it rang once…twice…

"Swan residence," said a gruff voice I recognized as belonging to the Black boy.

"Hello, this is Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Is Charlie available?"

Now he was not only gruff, but positively violent. "He's not here."

I took a deep breath—an attempt to keep my voice unaffected. "May I ask where he went?"

Hesitation—and then four simple words. "He's at the funeral."

I flipped the phone shut—there was nothing more to say.

It was true; Charlie was, at this very moment, dressed in a suit he hadn't used since his ill-fated wedding, standing before the casket that held his only child, Isabella Swan—my Bella—cold and unmoving, her beautiful face as pale, and her heart as still, as my own. Shedding his tears. Saying his final goodbyes. And cursing the thing that had put her there.

I had felt the ghost of this pain only once before in my life, as I stood at the curb where her sweet, intoxicating scent was abruptly lost in the overpowering stench of the city streets. Even as determination—no, desperation—filled my being, my mind struggled to cope with it, struggled to imagine what its full weight would do to the bearer. It was in those few, enormous moments that my mind had drifted to the insane. Surely I could not exist under such a crushing weight. It would undoubtedly kill whatever essence remained in me—so why should my body be any different?

And yet, I could not do it myself—a dry, fruitless sob wracked my body—I could not slip from this world as easily as my beloved. I must rely on another.

I had no hope that anyone from my makeshift family would help me—worse, they would restrain me, lock me in the cage of my pain for eternity. No… My mind searched wider, resting in Volterra, Italy. Surely they would have no objection—what was another death among so many? And if they did…I would simply have to make an annoyance of myself.

The plan became altogether unnecessary as soon as Carlisle pronounced her stable—yet there it lurked, in the back of my thoughts, waiting…

Yes, it had been a ghost…a feeble projection, the barest immitation, of what I now felt crushing down upon my body. Gone. My soul. The purpose of my existance. My first, my only, love. Cold and dead.

I dragged in one breath, then another—the air seared agonizingly against the hole where my heart used to lie dormant. Panic—an emotion I had not felt the full force of in decades, seized hold of my mind, now as cold as the rest of my being. As I had so often done in the centuries since I had last seen her face—the memories ripped visciously through me—I fell back on the bed, curling in on myself without even knowing the action. A single second became an eternity as the clock on the wall echoed deafeningly in my mind. Too much—it was too much.

"I should have left long ago. I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."

"I don't want you to leave."

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

-

In that moment, it seemed it would be too much for me, that I was physically incapable of letting her go. Who was to know whether I would see her beautiful face again?

I couldn't help but put a little more than the usual force into that final embrace, and felt myself doing the same as I captured her delisciously warm lips in an all-too-short kiss. There were so many words I wanted to give to her, yet none of them made it past my lips. There was nothing left to do but part. I felt whatever still lived in me die as her warmth faded back into the eternal cold.

-

"Don't." Her voice was broken, a hollow immitation of the sound I cherished. "Don't do this."

I fought, fought with the urge to pull her close and softly kiss her sweet-smelling hair, fought the words that felt like poison, fought to keep my face an emotionless mask. Surely I would choke on them—surely she would see the obvious falsehood!

"You're not good for me, Bella." She was the only thing that had ever mattered, the best thing that ever had and ever would come into my life. She was above and beyond anything I deserved.

The words found their mark. I watched the light go out of her warm brown eyes—they seemed to freeze before me. I felt the mask cracking as every part of me screamed to revoke those words that had cut her so deeply. How could she believe such transparent lies?

The Volturi.

It was ridiculous, how difficult it was simply to unfold myself. Joints stiffened, resisting the movement, as the pain reached a level of insanity I could not endure much longer. The only thing that calmed the roaring in my head was the thought—the assurance—that I would soon be on that plane, headed for Italy and a release from this agony.

"I would like to ask one favor, though, if that's not too much." Fear was creeping on as I watched her die a little more every second.

"Anything." The hint of strength. She was so devoted to any request I could make.

The mask cracked altogether. "Don't do anything reckless or stupid. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Afraid of ruining it all in these the final moments, I scrambled to backtrack. It was a feeble effort, I admit. "I'm thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself—for him."

My fingers fumbled over the zipper, pulling up the hood of my coat to keep the strenghtening sun at bay. There was nothing else in the room I had any care for, and so I was out the door and into the hallway, not bothering to conceal the wild emotions playing out on my face. Being inconspicuous was the last thing that mattered now.

It was no more than a whisper, but I clung desperately to the words. They gave me the strength I was so short on.

"I will."

It seemed the plane would never land, as every second persistently became a century, filled to the bursting point with memories, each one a sharp, poisonous barb. My fingers dug into the plastic arm rests, deeper and deeper as the minutes crawled by. Only my resolve to reach Italy prevented me from unleashing my full and monstrous abilities on the innocent passengers.

"And I'll make you a promise in return."

I weaved my way through the crowds considerably faster than I should have, the intensity of my hunger becoming noticable for the first time in months. Venom flooded my mouth as my throat ached dry. A pleasant distraction, I must admit.

"I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me."

I was racing along a dark highway, navigating without thought, the needle climbing in sync with my desperation. The seconds crawled by.

"It will be as if I'd never existed."

"My dear Edward…do be reasonable. We have considered your request objectively, and our decision is final. Please." Aro's brittle hands clasped mine, his eyes imploring. No doubt he was loath to lose his newest fascination. "Reconsider our offer."

I wrenched my hands from his grasp with ease—age had not left him unchanged.

"I won't forget. But my kind…we're very easily distracted."

I backed slowly away, shaking my head as a bitter laugh escaped me. Their thoughts trickled in, varying levels of disgust and fear. Even Caius was unsettled. "You will regret this. I will not be swayed. You will wish you had granted my request, before I could be your undoing."

"Let us hope for a change of mind," said Aro pleasantly, his gaze full of sadness.

A sneer curled my lip, baring my teeth—gasps of outrage filled the chamber at the obvious threat. The words tore from my throat, echoing, thrashing in my own ears. It reflected what burned and bit within.

"YOU WILL REGRET THIS!"

Silence, except for the sound of my retreating footsteps.

"That's everything, I suppose. We won't bother you again."

I crouched in the dark; tense, still. Darkness was best suited to dark thoughts.

The night passed even slower than the flight, though I had firmly believed it impossible. Torture—pure, unrelenting torture. I kept the screams at bay with my plans, ever shifting, for bringing about the end. It would end…soon the pain would end, and I would be welcoming hell.

For heaven was out of the question, with plans such as these. I had not forgotten my thirst—it would not be shoved aside any longer. The worst thing I could possibly do to the Volturi would be to hunt within their walls, feed on as many innocents as I could lay my hands on before they were forced to act. They would be exposed, they would lose the respect they had kept for millenia among their kind, and their reign would come to a bitter and no doub violent end. Yes…that would be the way to do it. Why die thirsty? Might as well allow myself the thing I had been denied for seven decades. The blood would be sweet—made even sweeter by the fact that it would bring about redemption. I stood, no longer able to lurk in this filthy room, no longer able to resist the burning in my throat, the painful twisting in my stomach…

And then there was his face.

I cursed it with all the strength I had left, hating those wise, compassionate golden eyes, that understanding smile… hating it, because I knew now that my thirst would not be quenched. I would not—could not—allow my final moments to make me such a complete disappointment. I loved him far too much.

And so I crouched once again, my mind falling to far less satisfying alternatives, the hunger biting just below the throb of the hole. By the time the night had begun to lighten, I had made my decision. One that meant I would have to survive five more hours.

"No. They're all gone. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye."

The Palazzo dei Priori was alive, filled to the bursting point with humans here to celebrate Saint Marcus Day. The sea of red was a cruel reminder to the greatly intensified thirst…yet, as my breath came in ever-quickening, and completely unnecessary, gasps, it meant nothing. My thoughts were only for her.

The minute hand seemed to be standing still, it moved at such an insufferable pace. It had to happen…it had to happen now. Regardless of the outcome, it—existance—would end now.

"Goodbye, Bella."

I inched restlessly forward as the minute hand finally neared the twelve. My fingers fumbled for the zipper, and then the coat slipped from my shoulders. I shed with it all feelings of agitation…an overwhelming calm seeped through me as though Jasper had sent it. Soon, now.

Hair falling in gentle, sweet-smelling waves, eyes warm and filled to the brim with affection—hands, so fragile, so delicate, tracing patterns across my skin, leaving tantalizing trails of heat in their wake. A delicate blush of crimson along her jawbone, the frantic beating of her heart as I brushed it ever so softly.

My eyes closed, and I took one last breath as the seconds ticked away in my head. In my dazed state, her voice came back to me, so much clearer than any memory. "Edward, no!"

"Take care of yourself."

The sun was mere inches away; I could feel its warmth on my skin. "No! Edward, look at me!"

For the first time in seven months, I felt a smile creep onto my face.

"You're right. Brown is warm."

I stepped into the sunlight—

I felt something collide with my chest…and then there was that sweet smell, so delicate and yet so forceful, sending my brain into a sweet haze, erasing the pain that had so long gripped my chest. My eyes drifted open, half unbelieving—but there she was. My arms tightened around her. I had somehow found heaven after all.

"Amazing." The smile was stronger now. "Carlisle was right."

My hand lingered on her cheek, hardly noticing the absence of the sweet blush. My eyes took in every feature with the enthusiasm of a man seeing the sun for the first time in years.

"I can't believe how quick it was," I mumbled, only half interested. "I didn't feel a thing—they're very good." My eyes drifted closed once again as I pressed my lips to her soft hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent. A hundred times more breathtaking than a field of wild flowers.

It was not that the hole had healed—it was as though it had never been there in the first place.

"Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty."

So...what do you think? Lets clear up a few things real quick. I don't remember it saying whether or not he can read thoughts while on the phone to someone, so lets just assume, for this oneshot, that he can. Also, yeah he was in a white shirt or something, which makes no sense since he would have had to be exposed to the sun at some point while he waited...so hell, lets call it a white hoody, shall we? Anyway...review, tell me what you thought. -dusty