This is a crossover fic, but I chose not to specify the other title. It was written with love and respect for m7707, who requested it and then promptly forgot. Because she owns me, I wrote it anyway.
The whole town whispered about the house in the woods, but no one could say who lived there. Rumors were rampant, of course, that it was a coven of witches or vampires, and the town's children lived in fear they'd be snatched from their beds in the middle of the night. For all the talk and speculation, no one could ever truthfully say they'd seen the occupants.
I was a senior that year at Forks High and a grudging member of the popular crowd. I mostly went along with everything they said because I just really didn't care enough to say no. I had to back away from a few of the crazier stunts because my father was the chief of police, but I was usually right in the thick of the action, bored senseless while others giggled and hooted with delight. Most of the pranks were unoriginal, stolen from movies the gang had seen. The football boys hefted a Volkswagen Beetle from its parking spot in front of the Safeway and turned it sideways so the driver couldn't leave the parking spot until the two cars in front and behind it did. It probably wouldn't have been too bad, except the football boys also drove those cars that blocked the car in. The cheerleaders liked to walk the sidewalks of downtown after school and change the letters on the signs to make them say curse words or sexually suggestive messages.
I was right there with them for the innocent pranks, twirling my hair and rolling my eyes. I didn't participate, but because I was there, I was just as cool as everyone else. It was that same apathy that landed me in a relationship with Mike Newton, the captain of the football team and quite likely the biggest bully of them all. I wanted to care. I wanted to shove him when he was mean to one of the freshman girls in the hall at school, but I couldn't even muster the energy to roll my eyes at him.
It was Forks, after all. What else was I going to do if I didn't get some mild entertainment out of the dopes I ran around with? After graduation, I'd use my lazily earned GPA to get into a college far, far away, and I'd never have to see any of them ever again. The thought of attending classes with people who didn't get their rocks off by torturing others sent a little flutter of excitement through me on occasion, but I couldn't make myself get too jazzed about it until I was sure it would happen.
This group of good-natured delinquents was the reason I found myself in the woods outside the dilapidated mansion on the eve of Halloween. The idiots had decided Devil's Night of senior year was the perfect time to do a little breaking and entering, and I was along for the ride. I had a lot to lose, especially if someone did actually live there and called the cops. My dad would be the first on the scene, and I'd have to lose myself in the surrounding forest while he arrested all of my so-called friends. It was that hint of danger that had my blood pumping for the first time since I could remember. The thought of my dad catching me in the act had me feeling on edge and kind of excited. So excited, in fact, that I didn't push Mike off me when he shoved his tongue down my throat at the end of the driveway.
We'd brought camping equipment to set up in the yard if we found that the house was, in fact, vacant. If there was no one living there, I'd have rather stayed inside and under a roof, especially since it was raining…again. Like the fools they were, the boys set to work constructing the tents, without first checking to see if we might have residents to deal with. The girls began a quick perimeter search for anything we could use as firewood, which was stupid since everything was soaked through from the perpetual mist.
I should have known that Mike Newton, town genius, would have a solution. He gathered the wood and laid it on the ground without first creating a fire circle and then doused it with lighter fluid. The resultant explosion of flame dried out the wood in a hurry, burned it quickly to ashes, and left us again with no fire, and also no more wood to burn. We huddled into the tents and wrapped up with sleeping bags, cursing Mike Newton as we moved. Even I did—his loyal girlfriend.
To say I was treading water would be putting it mildly. He was a good-looking guy with his blond hair, blue eyes, and letter jacket. There was always a hint of mischief in his eyes that bordered on manic. Part of me wondered if he tortured small animals based on that glint, but there'd never been any complaints. Outwardly, he was garrulous and fun loving, even if he happened to hurt a few people along the way with his pranks. My dad liked him okay, but Dad didn't know the half of the shit Mike had actually done.
Without a fire, our S'mores ingredients were hopeless, as well as the hot dogs that the boys had insisted on bringing. Instead, we all crammed together in two of the tents with several chilled beers, calling back and forth to each other through the thin canvas walls. Around two o'clock, things started to settle down. The guys passed out from the beer, and the girls just flat wussed out. By half-past two, I was awake on my own in the middle of the forest with a noted haunted house just two hundred yards away. I was no shrinking violet, and I was violently bored, so I untangled myself from Mike's sweaty embrace and stumbled out of the tent.
The heavy mist had stilled, and a hint of the moon was peeking over the tops of the trees. There was just enough light for me to see the outline of the house we had come to see. I rolled my eyes, thinking of the dumbasses passed out in the tent. Part of me wondered if they'd all been too chicken to actually do something, so they hid behind their beer and pretzels. I, on the other hand, had tagged along with the hope of finally feeling something in that godforsaken town—even if it was fear.
Determined, I set out for the front door of the house. There was no better way to find out if anyone lived there than to knock. Damn the fact that it was almost three in the morning. The plan was to knock and hide. If no one answered the door, I'd just let myself in. Since the whole town talked about the house and no one had ever seen anyone go in or out, I was banking on the fact that it was vacant. It was stupid of me to miss out on the beautifully kept yard and bushes, which should have given me my first clue that there was, in fact, someone living in the house—or, at the very least, taking care of the grounds on a regular basis.
Rather than take note of that little detail, I was instead focused on the distance between the door and the first immaculately trimmed bush. I needed to know that I had time to get from the porch to a hiding spot in record time. The house was silent and still, but I was still feeling a rush of adrenaline that told me I was about to see some action. Just in case, I checked my shoelaces to make sure I wouldn't trip during my big getaway.
With the large, solid door in front of me, I forgot all about my friends behind me. A frisson ran down my spine, but I stood straight, knowing that I was about to actually do what we had set out to do.
As I raised my closed fist to knock, a siren sounded and lights swept over the makeshift campsite, casting my shadow across the door. The excitement I had felt boiled quickly over into abject fear, and I flung myself off of the porch behind the bush that I had chosen for cover. From my hiding spot, I could hear my dad rustling the kids out of the tents, but I didn't dare look. Mike, Jessica, Lauren, and Tyler were all scrambling away from the site as dad loaded Eric and Angela into the back of his SUV. No one seemed to notice I wasn't there, and if they did, they probably assumed I had gotten the hell out the moment I heard the siren.
I remained hidden as my dad rounded up Tyler and Lauren, but he eventually gave up on Mike and Jessica. If he thought I'd been with them, he also probably assumed that I was long gone. After several moments, all was still once more. I waited at least five more, just to be sure my dad wasn't coming back to round up any strays, before poking my head up from behind the bush to take a look around.
"Did you need something, Bella?"
At the sound of the whisper-soft voice, I simultaneously screeched, jumped at least three feet into the air, and damn near wet my pants. I managed to control my bodily functions, but I still wasn't sure if I would live through the shock to my heart. By the time I was able to calm myself, I could feel the presence behind me. The elusive occupant of the haunted house—he did exist.
I had no escape; he was close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. Slowly, I turned to face my certain death and gasped when I saw who was standing there.
"Edward?"
Edward was known by everyone in town, but no one knew anything about him. To be honest, no one cared anything about him. He tended to the flowers and the landscaping around town, leaving everything pretty in his wake, and yet no one ever spoke a word to him or about him. How I even learned that his name was Edward, I couldn't remember.
He stood with his hands behind his back and rocked forward on the balls of his feet as if he were nervous about something. Why he was nervous on his own front porch when I was the trespasser, I didn't know. I took advantage of the light of the moon to really study him for a moment and was surprised to discover he was rather beautiful.
He was pale, but that was to be expected since he always wore a hat and dark clothes when he was working. As far as I knew, he stayed inside when he wasn't tending to the flora of Forks. In the privacy of his yard, he was wearing loose-fitting jeans and very large hoodie. It was so large, in fact, it hung down to his knees, and the bottom half of the sweatshirt looked to be in tatters. It must have been his favorite article of clothing for him to still wear it with so many holes and rips.
I continued to study his face, unaware that my silence was probably more unwelcome than my presence. He was just so handsome that it took me by surprise. The hair that was usually covered was in wild disarray around his face, but it didn't hide the severe jaw, the luminous eyes, or the soft lips. Such soft lips—I had to give them more attention than the rest of him. My eyes just couldn't help themselves.
"Bella?" He spoke again, interrupting my mental inventory of his features and reminding me that there was something odd about him.
"How do you know my name?" The words sprung forth unbidden. Apparently, my subconscious realized the danger while the rest of me was too busy getting a little turned on.
He dropped his head and stared at the tops of his feet, looking uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassed. I was the one trespassing, and he looked as if he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Hey," I said softly, looking down for just a moment to untangle my feet from the bushes that ensnared me. When I looked up again, he had his hands crammed into the pockets of his sweatshirt and was backing away slowly.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I promised. To prove my point, I sat down promptly on the top step of the porch and wrapped my hands around my knees.
I should have been scared out of my wits, alone in the woods with a strange man. There was something about him that spoke of gentleness, however, and I knew that I was safe.
"We didn't know anyone lived here," I started, by way of explanation. "It was just meant to be a bit of fun. I'm sorry if we bothered you."
"You never bother me, Bella." His words were little more than a whisper, but I felt them all the way down to my bones.
There was a comfortable silence—so much more comfortable than it should have been in our situation—before I asked him to sit next to me. He approached cautiously and settled himself as far away on the step as he could without falling off. Every move he made was full of grace, and they had to be since he kept his hands in his pockets the whole time.
"I see you in town sometimes," he murmured, staring out over his yard as he finally answered my question. "Your dad talks to me sometimes. He's the only person who really does."
My heart squeezed with sadness and regret that I'd never taken a moment to even greet him politely as I passed. It occurred to me that I probably knew his name through my dad, because I was sure none of my friends would have any clue he even existed, though they had probably seen him as often as I had.
"You called him when we showed up?" I didn't blame him, really. I was more fascinated with the idea that my father had heard more than three words from the man next to me.
"I am sorry for that."
"Don't be. They're idiots, and we all deserved to get in trouble for bothering you."
"They're your friends?"
Before answering, I thought very hard about the definition of "friends." They were more like people I hung out with because there weren't many other choices. After just a few moments of talking with Edward, I knew I'd choose him over my "friends" any day.
"We're not close." I couldn't give him anything else. I could apologize, so I took the brief chance that I got to do so.
"I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you before. I saw you in town, too, and I should have at least said hello. That wasn't very nice of me, and it makes me just as bad as the dumbasses I call friends."
"You should get home. Your father will worry about you."
I smirked, knowing he'd have his hands full with parents at the station. Even if I had to walk the three miles back into town, I'd still be home and tucked in bed before my dad managed to get away from the madness.
"I'll say hi next time I see you," I promised as I stood and wiped my hands on my jeans.
"You don't have to. No one does." He looked down at his lap with a small smile. There was no humor in it, and my heart twisted just a bit.
"I will anyway. Take care, Edward." With that, I began the long walk back home, but he didn't leave my thoughts for one moment.
I wondered if he would speak first the next time we saw each other. I didn't have to wait long to find out. A week later, I was walking from the school to the station to meet Dad and passed Edward on the sidewalk. He was pruning some of the bushes in front of the drugstore, but he stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets the moment he saw me. I had to smile at his nervous gesture, wondering if he did that when he saw anyone, or if I was the only one who prompted him to hide.
"Hi," I said, coming to a stop next to him.
He glanced around, almost as if he were checking to be sure no one was looking. I wasn't sure why it would bother him, but I didn't think anything else about it after he softly answered with his own greeting.
As always, he had a baseball cap pulled down as low as it could go. The same hooded sweatshirt draped over his frame, with the tattered ends blowing softly in the breeze. He was even paler in the daylight, but there wasn't much skin showing for me to see. When he noticed I was studying him more than polite actions would dictate, he dropped his chin and turned his head.
Color flared through my cheeks as I registered the rejection. "I didn't mean to bother you. See you later."
He didn't try to stop me as I walked away, and I wished more than anything he would. I didn't know what it was about him, especially since I'd barely known of his existence the week before, but I wanted to learn everything. And I wanted him to be the one to tell me. Just before I crossed the street, I turned one last time to look at him. In my head, it was goodbye—or, it would have been if he hadn't been staring intently after me. Somehow I could see in his gaze that he wanted to know me, too. I could only guess he just didn't know how.
It was that look that brought me back for more. Every time I passed him on the street, I was wildly aware of his presence. I didn't realize it, but my determined need to be near him meant I was drifting away from everything I'd always known. With just one more semester of school left, it was a good idea to start cutting ties with everyone, anyway. I just didn't mean to do it so quickly and completely. Unfortunately, Mike didn't realize I was letting him down easily. Instead, he followed me even more determinedly everywhere I went, which meant he was with me when I passed Edward on occasion.
The first few times I saw Edward with Mike hanging around my neck, I tried to say hello. Edward only turned away and kept at his work as if he'd never seen us. If I managed to catch him without my clingy boyfriend, he would always stop and talk for at least a moment. His posture was always the same—head bent, eyes trained on the ground, and hands shoved into his pockets. Still, I could feel that he was developing a comfort with me, and it made my heart sing with joy.
I'd never really wanted to be friends with someone before. They'd always sort of gravitated toward me, and I had to put up with them the best way I knew how. With Edward, I felt a driving need, a burning, all-consuming desire, to be near him. The feeling was entirely new, as I'd live most of my life in a state of apathy.
I noticed he was friendlier and more talkative closer to nightfall, so I began venturing out later and later in the evening. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend that extra time with him, but more that I didn't want him to be overwhelmed with my attention. He seemed to have no idea how very beautiful he was, and he couldn't have been comfortable with me staring at him for hours on end.
Finally, about a week before Christmas, I managed to catch him alone after he put the finishing touches on a lighted tree display outside the station. Dad was inside, oblivious to my presence as he worked his way through some paperwork regarding my stupid ex-friends. I didn't miss any of them except Angela, and I was glad that I hadn't had any part in whatever idiocy they'd gotten themselves into. I'd heard it had something to do with cans of tuna and the exhaust pipe on Mrs. Cope's car, but it was all through the grapevine.
Edward had his gloves on, as he always did, and he didn't try to take them off when I approached. Instead, he stuck his hands into his pockets again and greeted me with a small smile.
"Ready for Christmas?" I asked, then nearly smacked my own forehead for my stupidity. As far as I knew, he lived all alone, and no one in town had ever bothered to talk to him before my father and I had. Christmas was probably just like any other day to him.
Instead of reprimanding me, or even frowning, Edward smiled sheepishly and shuffled his feet. "More excited this year than I usually am."
My heart leapt in my chest, and I wondered if his newfound enthusiasm had anything to do with me. Plans and dreams and wishes all began to form in my head as I thought of just how I could give him the Christmas of his dreams without calling any more attention to my hopeless crush.
"I'm a little stupid sometimes," I blurted, still worried about his feelings.
"We don't talk much, but we talk enough for me to know stupid could never describe you."
Stupid was not a word I'd have used to describe him either. Though soft and sometimes breathy, his voice still sent shivers all the way through me. In order to hear more, I asked more. He always answered, even if the questions were pointless. And the questions were always pointless, since I couldn't make myself ask the important things—like where his family was, and how he came to live in Forks.
Still reeling from my inadvertent slip, I began rattling off more questions. To my horror, they were the questions I'd always avoided.
"What do you do for Christmas? Where is your family? You don't spend it alone, do you? Why can't I stop asking prying questions?"
He laughed out loud and shook his head. I'd never heard more than a quick chuckle before, and I marveled at the music rolling from him as he threw his head back in his mirth.
"You can ask me anything you like. I'm surprised it's taken this long, to be honest. I'll tell you anything you want to know, Bella, but I'm not sure you'd believe any of it."
That did it. If I hadn't already been hooked, I was a goner at that moment. I didn't know how to tell him that I'd believe him if he told me he'd been dropped off on the planet Earth four hundred years ago and was just waiting for his ride to appear and pick him up again.
"It's a long story, and I don't think we have time tonight. Soon. I promise."
"Wait here." I fairly commanded him before turning on my heel and marching into the station.
Dad was still behind his desk and looked no closer to finishing up than he had an hour earlier. Knowing that he would still be several more hours lessened my guilt for the lie I was about to tell. After all, if he couldn't be at home with me, why did I have to be there by myself?
"Dad, I'm going to go do some shopping in Port Angeles. Don't ask questions, either. It's almost Christmas, and a girl needs to have some secrets."
He looked up with that perpetual look of surprise, like he was shocked to remember he had a kid at all, and nodded. "Sure, Bells. Need some money? Is the truck running okay?"
"It'll make it just fine, thanks. I'll grab dinner while I'm there and probably shop until the stores close. That puts me back around…ten or so. Can we say eleven, just in case?"
He looked back down at his stack of papers and nodded dumbly. I wondered just what Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley had done, because the documentation looked like more than a simple tuna-up-the-tailpipe case. Whatever it was, it was more important than dinner with his daughter, so I left him there with his pen and returned to Edward's side.
"Are you done for the day?"
Apparently, my blunt questions were going to continue. He simply nodded. I waited for him to gather his things and was startled when he followed me just as he was. Did he not need tools? Did he keep them hidden somewhere so he could just grab them later? He'd have had to trim the trees with shears or scissors, as precise as they'd looked. I locked away the question to ask for later, determined to keep my nosiness to myself at least until we were outside of town.
"You can ride with me if you don't have a car," I offered, leading him toward my old truck.
"I do usually walk, but I'm grateful for the ride."
He stood and regarded the door handle for a moment before attempting to open it with his big, heavy gloves. I watched him fumble for a moment, wondering why he didn't just take the gloves off, before reaching across the cab of the truck to open it for him.
"It's tricky sometimes," I offered, trying to erase the splashes of pink that had colored his cheeks. It looked nice on him, the blush, bringing life to an otherwise colorless face.
"I've got until eleven before I have to be home. We can talk until then."
"As long as I can ask things, too."
A thrill shot through me as I realized that he did want to know me, too. I was so pleased that I couldn't make my mouth work again for the whole trip. Instead, I vibrated with excitement over the fact that I was about to spend almost five whole, uninterrupted hours with Edward. As I parked the truck in his driveway, I determined that my first question would be about his last name.
"I suppose it's Cullen," he answered when I asked.
I'd blurted my thoughts the moment I opened his door for him to let him out.
"It was my…father's name, so I guess it's mine, too."
How sad that he wasn't exactly sure if he could take his father's last name. He'd even hesitated on the word, as if he weren't sure he even had a father. I was beginning to question the wisdom of asking about his family, but my curiosity was just too great.
"Would you like to come in?"
I froze on the top step. I hadn't considered where the conversation would take place. He looked perfectly content to welcome me into his home, while I felt it would change absolutely everything. Slowly, I nodded, hoping I was making the right decision. He gave a crooked little smile and pushed the front door open.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt my breath catch in my throat. The outside of the mansion looked like something from The Addams Family, but the inside was bright, colorful, and completely incongruous. Upon closer inspection, I could see imperfections throughout the entrance hall and the sitting room to my left. The marble floors were in need of a polish, the paint had chips and gouges, and some of the furniture looked as though someone had accidentally dropped an axe on it…several times. Even with the scratches and dings, it was the most beautiful house I'd ever seen in real life, and I didn't hesitate to tell him that.
"My…mother liked to decorate," he said, dipping his head with a frown.
Again with the hesitation. I was growing more and more concerned about his family situation, but I knew it was important that I start slowly. When he excused himself to go get cleaned up, I wandered into the sitting room and sat gingerly on a velvet and mahogany sofa to wait.
When he returned, he was wearing another hoodie, and it was just as tattered as the one he'd changed out of. I considered the idea of getting him a new sweatshirt for Christmas, but I didn't know if we were close enough to give each other gifts. Just the thought of his possible reaction brought a flush of heat to my cheeks.
"Are you too warm?"
I flushed even harder when I realized he had seen me blushing. He stood, probably to help me become more comfortable, but I stopped him.
"I'm fine. Thank you. You don't have to…" I floundered for a moment.
How could I tell him that I wanted nothing from him but his company? Even if the house had been a roasting ninety-nine degrees, I'd have sat there happily, just to spend more time with him.
"I don't need anything at all. You've been on your feet all day. I just want you to sit and relax so we can talk."
"No tea? Coffee? Water?"
"Nope. Sit still. But thank you."
He looked almost relieved as he settled into the velvet chair across the room. Without removing his hands from his pockets, he pulled his legs up and tucked his knees under his chin. I watched with a smile as he curled into a ball, folding his lanky frame until it all fit in the little antique chair.
"You don't have any decorations up." I almost smacked myself in the forehead for calling attention to the fact. He lived alone and no one in town ever bothered to talk to him. Why would he bother with mistletoe and holly?
"I haven't since my…mother and father died."
Again with the hesitation. I didn't know how to approach the question, so I started with an easy one.
"How long have they been gone?"
He smirked for a moment and shrugged. "It's hard to say. I'd have to explain some other things before I told you that, or you probably wouldn't understand."
I frowned at his cryptic words. What was there to understand? Apparently I had asked a hard one after all. Maybe asking why he hesitated every time he called his dad "father" would have been the easier one. I decided to go for it.
"Ah, that's the question," he said when I asked.
I knew I should have started with that one. He didn't look offended at all. He meant it when he said I could ask anything.
"My…father was born in 1856 in Maryland."
"Come again?"
"I'm sorry. I know it's hard to comprehend. I don't know any way to tell it but to just say it. My father was born in 1856. His name was Carlisle Cullen, and he was a genius. He liked to invent things…to build. Things like the cotton gin fascinated him, and he wanted to build things that could change the world in the same way. He met my mother, Esme, when he was almost thirty and fell in love immediately. The way he told the story, most people believed he would be a bachelor his whole life, but he'd just never met a woman more beautiful than his machines until her."
"And when was she born?" I couldn't help asking, and he smiled at the interruption.
"In 1867. She was nineteen, and she loved him just as instantly as he did her. It wasn't unheard of in that day and age."
What was unheard of, however, was a man who could be no older than twenty telling me that his parents had been born over a hundred and fifty years ago. He looked so earnest as he shared the story—like he wanted nothing more than for me to believe him. I couldn't help but wonder if he might be a little crazy. He did, after all, live on his own in a scary-looking mansion on the outskirts of town. He was either having some fun with me…or he was just plain insane.
"Please don't think I'm crazy," he pleaded.
I started, wondering if he could read my thoughts. I realized they must have been written clearly on my face. What did he expect? Surely he didn't think I'd fall for it?
"I've never met anyone that I could talk to, Bella. When you asked me, I realized I wanted to tell you more than anything. Just…set aside disbelief for a moment. If you want to run screaming when you know it all, I won't chase you. I'll leave you alone and never speak to you again."
His gaze was holding mine intently, and I could see the brilliant green from across the room. He was serious; that much was clear. There wasn't a hint of humor. I felt a thrill of excitement that he had chosen me and resolved to listen to everything he said. Even if I decided he was crazy, I would never run from him. I'd get him the help he needed and hold his hand through it all.
"Go on." My voice was little more than a whisper, but he heard me.
His lips quirked up into a smile, and he dipped his head shyly. "This is where it gets harder. If you can accept that part, you may believe the rest. Esme couldn't have children, you see. My father loved her more than anything in the world, and she wanted children even more than that. He'd have done anything he could, but at that time, adoption wasn't as widely accepted. In fact, it was quite hard to find children. They moved often, visiting orphanages in every town. For a time, they took in children and cared for them as well as they could, but something always happened to rip the child from their embrace."
"Until you?"
"Well, kind of. My parents didn't adopt me. My father…made me. Created me."
There were absolutely no words to meet that statement. Rather than attempt a full sentence, I simply stared. What he was suggesting just wasn't possible. There was no way to just create a human being, no matter how much of a genius Carlisle Cullen had been. Besides, if the man was so smart and could create life, why wasn't he still alive and kicking at the ripe old age of a hundred and fifty-five?
"I didn't expect you to believe me," Edward said mournfully, resting his chin on his knees. "Since they're all gone, I have no one to really talk to. They were the only ones who knew, and now I'm alone without anyone who understands. I hoped you might, but I don't blame you for not. I can take you home if you wa—"
"Wait."
I didn't even realize I had spoken, but my word stopped him as he stood. His hands slipped from his pockets just a bit as he readied himself to catch his balance, but it wasn't necessary. I caught a flash of something sparkly just before he crammed his hands back into the sweatshirt.
"You said there were others? Others like you?"
Edward's lips quirked up into a small smile. "They were like me for a time, yes. There was Emmett, the first, and then his wife, Rosalie. They were like a brother and sister to me, but he didn't quite get it right with them. It didn't matter, of course. My mother loved them still. He didn't have the…supplies to keep trying for quite some time, so it was just the four of them for about fifteen years."
"Supplies? What do you mean by supplies? He just had…body parts lying around? Like Frankenstein?"
I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but the words just spilled out. Luckily, he seemed amused by my questions. With a shake of his head and rueful laugh, he shifted forward in his seat.
"Carlisle really was a genius. He could learn absolutely anything without any trouble at all. One day, he looked around at all the machines he'd built, realizing that the point of the machines was to take the place of humans. He formed an idea and began studying the human anatomy. Within a month, he'd formed Emmett from several different machines, giving him as many human attributes as he could."
"A robot?" I shrieked.
Edward flung himself back in his chair away from the strident tone of my voice. For a moment, he trembled and stared, wondering if I was about to lose my mind. When I said nothing further, awaiting his answer, he leaned forward again and tried to reassure me with a smile.
"Carlisle wasn't your average genius, Bella. While you may consider a human form built from mechanical parts a robot, Carlisle and Esme saw Emmett as a person. Carlisle was sure to create a being that could learn and love. He did so well that Emmett began to crave companionship, and then Rosalie was born. As he worked, he learned more and more about anatomy, and he was able to give them organs, and hair, and teeth. When he was finished, they looked just like anyone you might pass on the street. Emmett was big and brawny, made from machines that were created to work in the fields. Rosalie was tall and willowy, created from parts that were meant to help women with housework—laundry and such. But he didn't just stop with their forms. He worked with them every day, teaching them from books, showing them love and compassion."
My mind was whirling. What he was saying just couldn't be possible, and yet I really wanted to believe him. He looked so earnest, so desperate for me to trust him. I knew there was more to the story, but he was waiting to see if I could accept what he had shared so far. My eyes roamed over his hunched form, taking in the lean lines of his legs, the sharp contour of his jaw, and the wild red of his hair. More than anything, it was the pleading in his eyes that convinced me. This was not a crazy man; neither was he lying to me.
"What happened then?"
"As much as Carlisle tried to teach them how to look and act like humans, there was always a bit of a disconnect. They could appear as humans only until someone got too close. There was always the possibility of a breakdown somewhere. Rosalie adored her hair and body, and she was often looking into mirrors. If anyone saw her do it for a moment, there was nothing to worry about. She could stand for hours, though. Hours upon end, just staring at herself. Emmett, made from the most powerful of machines, had strength that no man should have. He wasn't always careful with his abilities, and there were times when the family had to move to avoid drawing suspicion. It was often after Emmett would break something that shouldn't have been broken.
"He wanted to try again, but he just didn't have the resources available. One day, while the family was out enjoying the sunshine, they happened upon an old barn. I believe they were living in Mississippi at this time… Anyway, there were plenty of parts inside for him to try again, and he did. He bought the barn and the house that was on the adjoining land, and the family moved in so that he could begin work on a new brother. With the parts that were left over, he created a mate for the brother, and Jasper and Alice were born. Because she was created from smaller machine pieces, Alice was quite tiny—almost childlike. That ended up spilling over into her personality. Jasper, as a result, was very protective of her."
At some point in his story, I'd begun to believe every word out of his mouth—his pretty, pretty mouth. In a matter of a few moments, I'd gone from planning Edward's commission to an insane asylum to wondering just where his brothers and sisters were. I could only imagine they were still alive, but perhaps there was more to the story.
"Where are they? Your brothers and sisters? Did you know them?"
Edward huffed a laugh and leaned back in his seat again, relaxing under the knowledge that I finally believed him. He didn't answer for a moment, instead adopting a faraway look. I imagined he was probably picturing his brothers and sisters wherever they might have been.
"I knew them, yes. We were quite close. Alice and Jasper joined the family in 1904, and the six of them were immensely happy together. Carlisle didn't want to stop, however. Emmett and Rosalie were certainly his children in almost every sense of the word, but he'd been experimenting. Alice and Jasper joined the family and were loved just as the others, but they were created from borrowed machines. Carlisle felt he wanted one more try, to build a new child exactly as he knew it should be done. He spent several years choosing the very best materials he could find, traveling all over the country as it was at that time."
Without interrupting, I thought how well Carlisle had certainly done picking out the very best. Edward was a work of art—if, in fact, he was the perfect child Carlisle had created. If there was another out there more perfect, I couldn't even imagine the beauty.
"By the time he was ready to begin, he was nearly sixty years old. At the time, sixty was quite old. He struggled to keep his hands steady as he worked, and I know he was in pain. He gave me my thoughts before he gave me anything else, so that I could begin learning even as he created the rest of me. My feelings came next. I knew love well before I was fully formed. My family was wonderful, and they all spent time with me throughout the transformation."
I stared at him with wonder. I couldn't imagine knowing and feeling everything as I was being created. It must have been a magical feeling, to watch as he was literally put together one piece at a time.
"When were you finished?"
Again, I was met with silence. I didn't understand his reticence. If I was going to balk at anything he'd told me, I would have done it long before that point. When he still didn't answer, I unfolded my legs and began to stand. There was no thought in my mind of leaving, but Edward misunderstood my actions.
"1918!" he blurted, leaning forward quickly. Again, his hands almost left his pockets, probably because of his desire to reach for me and hold me in my place.
There was no need. At his words, I froze, half-standing. After a moment, my legs gave out, and I collapsed back onto the sofa behind me.
"You're almost a hundred years old?"
He nodded miserably. "Only…I wasn't actually finished. That's why I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say."
My jaw dropped. I couldn't even begin to fathom what Carlisle might have left out. He was perfect, absolutely without fault. Soft-spoken, handsome, caring, kind, generous—as far as I was concerned, Carlisle Cullen had certainly achieved his masterpiece. Without warning, my mouth opened and I announced my thoughts.
"But you're perfect!"
A sad smile crossed his features, and he looked down. "Oh, Bella. I wish I could say that I am. But the truth is Carlisle died before he could finish me. I am still part machine, though the rest of me is complete. I'll never be a man. I have masculine thoughts and feelings; believe me, I do."
I shivered at his implication.
"I can never act on them."
With a gasp, I wondered exactly what he was trying to say. Did incompletion mean that he physically couldn't act? Did he want me to understand that he could never have a sexual relationship?
"It's not what you think," he said lowly. "Although that would almost be better."
Without another word, he slowly pulled his hands from his pockets. I held my breath, waiting painfully for what he wanted to show me. I imagined him pulling away an article of clothing to show working machine parts under his shirt or lifting his pants to show metal legs. I was so far ahead of his actions in my mind that I almost didn't register what he really was showing me.
Edward extended his arms to me, stretching fully to present his hands. Only, they weren't hands. They were a collection of sharp blades, very much resembling handfuls of scissors and knives. They glinted in the low light of the parlor, sparkling and shining like the deadly instruments they were. And yet, because they were so obviously a part of him, I found them beautiful.
We sat in silence for a moment as I studied the blades that were in the place where his perfect fingers should have been. Without meaning to, I imagined that cold steel against my face. I knew he would be gentle…had no doubt that he would never hurt me. Still, the possibility was there. No matter how hard he tried to avoid causing me pain, with such dangerous limbs and my inherent clumsiness, it was almost inevitable.
And yet…I loved him.
I really did. I had fallen for him over the course of several months, believing him to be out of my league. It took his confession to show me that he was just as flawed as I, and that was all I needed to take the final step off of the cliff and into the abyss of hopeless, consuming, undying love.
"Please say something?"
I hadn't realized how long we sat without speaking. Edward was still holding his hands out to me in supplication, begging me to accept him just as he was. I did the only thing I could think to do. In a swift move that could have gotten me killed, I slid from the couch to the spot at his feet.
With a gasp, he pulled his hands away, but I stopped him with a look that was somewhere between commanding and begging. Gently—so slowly that I didn't even appear to be moving—I took his hands in mine. As I had expected, his touch was as gentle and graceful as he was. There was ultimate control in his eyes as he allowed me to settle my palms beneath the blades. The steel was warm against my skin, probably from their permanent residence in his pockets, but it was gradually cooling. I left my hands in place until the metal had gone cold again, finally understanding the sad state of his wardrobe.
From my position on the floor, I looked up into his soft green eyes and smiled. "You're still beautiful, Edward. Every last part of you."
Swiftly, he pulled the blades away and crammed them back into his sweatshirt. "You can't believe that, Bella. I'm a freak!"
Stunned, I sat back on my heels. Tears filled my eyes as I watched him wrestle with his emotions. They were clearly painted across his face—anguish, hope, anger, despair. Through it all, his gaze stayed locked on mine, and I willed him with my whole heart to believe me.
"You told me your story, Edward. You wanted me to know, and you trusted me to understand. I do. I know every part of you know, and I love all of it."
At my words, he flung himself sideways from the chair, leaving me speechless in my spot. Without a hint of struggle, he stood and eyed me coldly.
"You can't. Whatever you think you're feeling, it's not real. No one could love me this way, Bella. Carlisle damned me when he created me. He damned me, and then he died. Esme followed soon after because she wanted to be with him and not her freak of a son. My brothers and sisters didn't even stay. It's just me, alone, with my scissors for hands, and that's the way it will always be."
I gaped at him for a moment, trying to find words that would calm him, words that might prove I was being as honest with him as he had been with me, but none would come. His chest was heaving with his anger; tears gathered in his eyes. Through it all, my heart swelled until I thought I might die from the pain, and yet I could say nothing.
"Just go."
He didn't wait to see if I would obey. I heard his wails of frustration and grief as he tore through the house but was helpless to follow. He allowed me to remain in his floor until I could find the strength to move. When I finally stood, my legs carried me to my truck and drove me home, but my mind was still focused on his hands—his beautiful, deadly hands.
Months passed without a glimpse of him. The flowers and shrubs in the town were well kept throughout the spring, so I knew he was still close. That knowledge was the only thing that kept me from total breakdown. As graduation neared and I still had yet to see him, I realized he would forever avoid me. All of my plans and schemes to leave Forks and never look back returned with a vengeance. I couldn't stay in the town where he was. I couldn't live each day knowing he could be right around the corner, refusing to see me or speak.
Slowly, I returned to my stupid life, to my stupid friends. Mike was glad to have me back, but my heart wasn't in it. That particular organ was still lying tattered on the floor of a dilapidated mansion on the outskirts of town. Still, I was able to pretend for the sake of my father that I was healthy and happy. I finished my classes, took my exams, and relished the acceptance letter to UC Berkeley with whatever fervor I had left.
When commencement arrived, I sat dully through the ceremony, standing when called, sitting when prompted. When the principal announced us as the graduating class of 2011, there wasn't even a twinge of excitement in my chest where my heart should have been. There was only the desire to run.
I begged out of party after party, choosing instead to wander the town on my own. I needed to see it all one last time before I packed my truck to leave. As I shuffled down the sidewalk, I stopped at significant spots in my memory—the bench where he had sat with me while I waited for my father, the trees where he would work and watch me from the corner of his eye, the drugstore where we had laughed together over something stupid my so-called friends had done. He was everywhere, and yet he was nowhere.
"Bella!" A voice slurred from down the street, and I cringed when I recognized Mike's drunken shouts.
The parties should have been just getting started, and he was out on the streets tanked with booze and searching for me. It wasn't something that could end well. I'd never actually broken up with him, figuring the distance when I left for college would take care of the problem for me. He seemed insistent on seeing me one last time, and that had driven him to leave the parties early to find me.
"There you are, Bella!" His words tripped and fell together in a drunken heap, just before he did the same at my feet.
"What are you doing, Mike?" I asked tiredly. Was it too much to ask to be left alone with the best memories I had of Forks? Could I not just get five more minutes with the ghost of Edward before I hightailed it away from the pain and heartache?
"Wanna sex you before you go," Mike said, giggling as he rolled on the ground at my feet. When he landed on his back, he did an awkward hip thrust and winked in my direction.
"Not a chance in Hell. Go home, Mike. This thing is over. It's been over for a while. When I leave tomorrow, I won't be back…ever. Find Jess or Lauren and take care of your needs with them."
"But, Bella, we're good together!" At least, that's what I thought he said. The words were so garbled, I almost didn't recognize it as English. He was still thrusting his hips in an off-kilter rhythm, making me glad I'd never attempted anything past second base with him.
"You're drunk and pathetic, and there's nothing good about anything we ever did. I'm in love with someone else, Mike, and I have been for a long time. There will be no goodbye sex. There will be no pity sex. There will not even be a he-doesn't-love-me-so-I-might-as-well sex. None. There will, however, be a fuck off."
With those final words, I stepped over him to continue on my way. Rage ripped through me when he grabbed my ankle and pulled me down on top of him. When he started pawing at me over my jacket, that red burned white-hot. Without thinking, I began thrashing and kicking as hard as I could, but even drunk Mike overpowered me.
"Will be," he mumbled, rolling me underneath him. He fumbled with the button to my jeans, only to give up and paw at my shirt again. "Right here, right now…will…fu—"
The remainder of his words died in a hiss, and his eyes rolled back into his head. I praised whatever god there was above that he'd managed to pass out before he could do any serious damage and rolled him off of me.
It wasn't until I stood and began to brush myself off that I saw the blood. Lots of blood. So much blood that I thought I might be sick. As soon as the odor hit my nose, I turned and almost vomited into Edwards's gorgeous flowers. Only remembering they were his could stop the heaves as I fought not to empty my stomach over the pink and yellow petals.
When I turned back to Mike, I saw he wasn't passed out at all. It was a sleep from which he would never awaken. I looked around incredulously to see if anyone had witnessed what had just transpired, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Except…
Except for a trembling form in the shadows next to the drugstore. I didn't even dare hope. In fact, when the streetlamp glinted off of something silver, I still tried to convince myself it wasn't real.
"Edward?"
The body stiffened and turned away, ready to run, but I was already halfway there.
"Edward? Holy shit! Edward, please don't go!"
I was running faster than I had ever run, but I still felt as though I'd never reach him. He looked torn, dancing from foot to foot like he didn't know whether to move toward me or bolt. In the end, he remained rooted and allowed me to fling myself into his arms.
"You…" I whispered. "You saved me…"
He didn't embrace me, but he didn't push me away either. Instead, he stared over my head at the still form of Michael Newton on the sidewalk.
"He was going to hurt you," he finally whispered, the words shaking with his tremors.
"He was going to do more than hurt me. What he wanted… It would have killed me, Edward."
"He was supposed to be good for you. He wasn't supposed to hurt you like I can."
His words cut straight through me. Edward had disappeared because he feared hurting me. He had left me to the clutches of Mike Newton because he wanted me to find normal love.
"You would never hurt me like that, Edward. You're a good person, a beautiful man inside and out. Don't you see? I don't care about these." I wrapped my hands around the sharp blades, refusing to wince when one sliced into my palm.
"You said you love someone…" He looked too scared to hope, but I could see it in his eyes—the tiny seed of longing.
"I do. I have since the moment I met you…and I always will. Sending me away is no use. Hiding from me is worse."
Slowly, he released his hands from my grip so as not to cause more harm. I let him go gently and leaned in as he wrapped his arms around me. "I don't deserve you. Not at all. I can't be what you need."
"You're exactly what I want."
Before the words were even out of my mouth, he pressed his lips to mine. Fire raced from that soft point of contact all the way through my body, and I pressed him into the wall. When he gasped, I took the opportunity to offer him my tongue, and he took it gratefully. As Mike lay dying, Edward returned my heart to me, whole and unblemished.
"You'll want me to touch you…" he started, pulling away breathlessly.
"I'll make up for it by touching you," I insisted, claiming his mouth again.
"I have to hide…" He wrenched his lips from mine to speak once more.
"I'll hide with you."
He kissed me again, and I could feel every bit of the love Carlisle had taught him. He hadn't said it, but I knew it to be true. He loved me, just as I loved him.
"I don't want this for you," he roared, pushing me away suddenly. "You don't deserve this life."
Instead of cowering as I had before, I took strength from the knowledge that he loved me, too. Determinedly, I stepped forward, pressing him back against the wall.
"Ask me what I want, Edward. Ask me what I need."
He stared down the alley, refusing to meet my gaze. Since I hadthe luxury of touching him, I grabbed his chin and pulled his face toward me.
"I want you. I want you more than anything else. I need you. I need to feel your arms around me, to touch your face, and see your eyes. I want…need to love you, Edward. I always will, whether you're here or not, so don't push me away."
Feverishly, he kissed me again, allowing himself to believe I could truly choose a life with him. I curled my fingers through the soft hair Carlisle had given him, caressed the strong jaw Carlisle had formed. He was beautiful, and he was finally mine.
I wanted to stay there in his arms forever, but I knew we had a problem in the form of one dead Mike Newton. I linked my arm through Edward's and dragged him down the alley. My truck was parked only a few blocks away, so we hurried like we were being chased. I made sure to open his door first before scrambling behind the wheel.
"My stuff is packed. We can just go now. No one has any reason to believe it was either of us, anyway, but we should go just to be sure. We can go anywhere, do anything!" The words poured from my mouth in jubilation.
By the time we reached my house, it was almost three o'clock in the morning. I left him in the truck while I went in to say goodbye to Charlie and gather my things. After a brief hug and a promise to call, I stumbled out of the house with the few belongings I couldn't bear to leave behind and tossed them into the truck.
Edward was still sitting silently in the passenger seat. For a moment, just before I turned the key in the ignition, I was afraid he was going to fight me again. Instead, he turned to me with so much love and hope in his eyes that my heart broke all over again. I smiled through my tears and slammed the truck in reverse.
We didn't even look back when we passed the city limits sign. I knew that, as long as he was by my side, my tattered heart would heal. I just hoped I could do the same for him.