He listens to her heart beat, each succeeding pulse arriving slower than the last. Even now, in her last vestiges of life, she dreams, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids. What he wouldn't give to know what inhabits her subconscious at this very moment.
His thumb strokes the tender, translucent skin from the corner of her eye to her temple. The hair he finds there is finer, yet still the soft silk he loves.
He wants her to open her eyes, just one last time. He wanted that the last time she opened them as well. He'd want it again if she were strong enough to grant him his wish.
"Please," he whispers. "Open your eyes, Bella."
She remains still; her eyes perpetually closed.
Edward seeks out her hand and holds it delicately in his. Her skin is still warm, still soft. He lifts her hand and kisses her palm, her wrist, each individual finger.
The door creaks open behind him; it's Carlisle. Even before he can speak, Edward hears the words resonating in Carlisle's mind.
"It'll be soon, Edward," he says softly. "Alice—"
"I know." He asks him to leave. Carlisle's mind whispers his compassion and love for him before he finally leaves him alone.
Soon. Soon her precious heartbeat will stop. Soon her chest will no longer rise and fall with her slight breathing. Soon she will be warm no more.
Gently, he lifts her feeble form just enough to inch her across the mattress. He abandons his chair, stretches out beside her. His hand settles over her chest, moving with her every breath, feeling every imperceptible beat. Still, she dreams.
Edward closes his eyes, loses himself in her. He knows that if he could dream at all it would be of her.
* * *
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Her subtle beauty, her hesitant smile, and her quick wit had drawn him in. Her most attractive feature was also her most dangerous. With every inhalation of her scent, with every thump of her heart, Edward put her very life at risk.
Bella was aware that every moment she spent in his presence could mean the end of her young life. Despite that knowledge, she had refused to distance herself from him, something that baffled Edward from the beginning. Humans knew, unconsciously, to stay away from him, from his family. Yet Bella gravitated towards him, with her enticing smell and the melody of her heart.
And from the beginning, he tried in vain to stay away from her. He left Forks for a week. Then he came back and was unjustifiably rude to her. He saved her life; he exposed himself as the terror that he was. Still, she would not fear him, and he could not stay away.
Her utter acceptance of him and his family was staggering. She became a fixture in his life. She became his life. Every day she surprised him with her trust in him, with her heart, with her life. Even after he almost lost her to James, she held strong to her faith in him. She humbled him. He cherished her. Bella Swan made Edward Cullen incomparably happy – she made him human. And in return, he vowed to do anything to make her happy.
Except take her life.
It was a frequent argument between the two. During the hours spent filling out college application, the summer of their senior year, she would enduringly present her case. She would list every reason why changing her would be the most practical solution.
"I want be with you," was her final, most important point. "Forever."
He had cupped her face, ran his thumbs from the corner of her eyes to her temples and played with the silky tendrils he found there. "You will be," he assured her, "but not at the expense of your mortality."
She had frowned at him, but remained silent – biding her time for her next attempt.
And she continued, tirelessly. Her most admirable effort had been a shock. If Edward had been capable of breaking into a cold sweat, he would have. Knowing that she couldn't convince him, Bella had sought the approval of his family. His family, who loved Bella unconditionally, who already considered her a daughter and sister, would be sure to side with her in the matter.
She asked them to vote. She wanted to remain with Edward forever. She wanted to be known as Isabella Cullen for eternity. She loved and adored each and every one of them.
"Will you please accept me into your family?"
Carlisle and Esme looked at each other. "We've already accepted you, darling," Esme spoke soothingly.
"As a vampire," she clarified. She asked them again to vote, asked that one of them be willing to make the sacrifice Edward would not.
Each individual looked at the other as if seeking a consult. Edward eagerly perused their thoughts, and felt staggering relief at what he discovered.
"Bella," Carlisle began, his voice gentle and his eyes soft, "this is not something we can interfere with. This is a matter to be solved between you and Edward. We cannot make the decision for you."
Bella's eyes fell away. Edward smelled her blood as it flushed her face and saw the tears glistening in her eyes. His guts twisted.
Carlisle spoke again. "Bella, regardless of the outcome, you will always be a part of this family. We will always cherish you – for who you are, for how you've helped Edward, for everything. Never doubt that, please."
She nodded, sniffled once and lifted her head again. Her eyes scanned the room one last time, as if hoping someone would disagree and side with her. Even Alice, who had termed her change inevitable, remained silent.
Edward swore he could hear Bella's heart breaking.
For weeks after that, she wasn't herself. She went through the motions, quietly spending hours with him applying to more colleges (she didn't even argue with him over choices such as Harvard, Dartmouth, or Princeton). She would cuddle against his chest on the couch, or in her bed before sleep, but she would hardly say a word.
Edward tried to speak with her; he tried to make her understand him. She would only smile sadly, nod her head, and then change the subject.
He knew her heart was mending when she started joking with him again.
"You think you're robbing the cradle now," she deadpanned. "When I'm forty, I'll be labeled as a cougar."
Edward knew then that she had finally, reluctantly accepted his position on the matter. Surprisingly, she still wanted to be with him. Of course, he wouldn't have blamed her if she had changed her mind and decided to explore a different path in her life. But she didn't, and that astounded him.
They were accepted to Dartmouth. They lived in a tiny one bedroom house just off of campus. They were lying in bed together when she hit him with another heart-stopping demand:
"If I have to live the rest of my life growing older while you stay perfect, and healthy, and alive, then I refuse to spend it sexually frustrated," she groused. "It's unfair."
He didn't point out to her that he was, in fact, not alive, simply because he knew she was right. He was already robbing her of the one thing that would make her happy for all eternity – literally.
That night, as he relished in the warmth of her body, he promised her that they would try. Mindful of that fact that he could kill her with the slightest touch, the very idea of trying terrified him, but he wanted to make her happy. He couldn't deny her anything else.
So, he agreed they would try, if she agreed to marry him first.
It took two days before Bella spoke to him again, and another three before she agreed to his terms.
Try they did. In frustratingly slow increments they tested his control, until the night of their wedding – on the beautiful Isle Esme – they discovered they could be together without injury and/or death. It was arguably one of the happiest moments of their lives.
They endured the years blissfully happy, though intermittent with heart-breaking tragedy. They never got the chance to worry about how Edward's agelessness would be explained to her parents; she lost each of them in tragic succession. Charlie died of a heart attack. The neighbors found him in his police cruiser, parked in the driveway. Bella had just turned twenty-one. The following year, Renee and Phil were flying to New Hampshire to spend Christmas with them when their plane crashed into a dense forest.
Bella had cried her last tears for Charlie. She couldn't muster the tears for her mother and Phil, though Edward heard every cracked beat of her heart and knew she mourned them immeasurably.
Yet Bella being Bella, she rallied on. She shored up her grief, devoted herself to her studies and Edward, and later graduated with honors with a degree in education, her concentration biology. They moved back to Washington, though not Forks; she never wanted to return to Forks again. She accepted a teaching position at a high school. Edward, however, found difficulty in the job market because he looked too young to hold a four year degree. As it was, he stayed at home and composed music while Bella went to work every day. It wounded his ego that his wife worked while he spent the long hours at home. He tried to convince her that they had ample enough money and that she didn't need to hold a job. She wanted to. She enjoyed it, and Edward enjoyed seeing her happy.
The early years were easy. Bella maintained her youthful appearance, so there didn't appear to be an age difference between the two. This, of course, was only tested on strangers. They lived in a big enough city that there was never a fear of encountering Bella's coworkers; they never met Edward. In fact, the situation made it ideal for them to stay longer in once place.
They were, however, forced to move regularly. Bella and Edward, and the rest of the family were frequent travelers. Surprisingly, the moving suited Bella fine. She admitted she enjoyed seeing new places and faces every so many years. She liked the spontaneity of it all and the air of mystery.
By the time Bella reached her thirties, a noticeable strain befell them. If they were seen together in public, people assumed they were mother and son, a conception that slowly began to chip away her self esteem. She would no longer hold his hand in public, no matter if he sought to grasp her fingers. Public displays of affection were limited and only if they were discreet. Late movies and dinner seated at a private corner booth became typical.
The strain thickened when Edward noticed her gazing longingly at young mothers as they cuddled crying or giggling infants and toddlers. Whenever he witnessed her looks, all he could do was squeeze her hand and hope that she sensed his love in the tiny gesture. She would smile that sad, yearning smile and continue on.
He asked her one morning, while she was eating the French toast he had made for her, if she would like to adopt. Her surprise was evident but her answer was firm.
"So you can watch your wife and your daughter grow old and die?" She slowly shook her head. "That's not fair to you, Edward."
And it finally sunk in: he was going to lose her. Forever carried two very different definitions for each of them. While she was still beautiful, young and vibrant, she was aging. She was dying, right before his eyes. And for a fleeting moment, he almost gave in to her wish – never mind the fact she'd never again brought it up for discussion.
Then, he imagined his venom burning like acid through her veins. He imagined never being able to listen to the rhythmic beating of her heart again, and he resolved within himself that he couldn't do it. He couldn't end her life.
She reached forty with aplomb; she offered an easy smile for every picture taken during her party. During her fiftieth celebration, her smile became more chagrin than delight. That year she all but refused to appear in public with him. Grandma was the word she feared hearing most.
He still loved her; she was still confident in his love. For a while, that was enough.
Sixty-five was the year Bella noticeably scrutinized her face in the mirror. Her hair had grown thin and she was forced to cut it short to give the appearance of thick, healthy hair. The lines at her eyes, around her nose and mouth were no longer faint "laugh lines" but full-blown wrinkles. The rest of her body had fallen victim to time, and gravity.
It was then she refused to let him touch her intimately. At first, it wounded him. When he looked at her, he didn't see a woman "on the wrong side of sixty" – as she called it – but he saw Bella. The woman he married and loved – his life. He still tried to convince her that she was beautiful and he would always want her.
"Please, Edward," she pleaded. Her voice had changed, too. "Can't you just hold me?"
He would hold her for the rest of her life.
As more years passed, her heart lost its steady, predictable rhythm. He listened to the beats of her heart during the day, but it was the nights, when he laid motionlessly beside her, that he listened more intently to the irregular thumps.
One morning, Edward went to speak to Carlisle. He needed his father's impeccable medical advice on such a precious matter, for he refused to lose her a day sooner than necessary. They'd been discussing the topic for just under an hour when Alice stormed into the office.
"She's leaving you."
Edward ran the ten miles to their home in less than two minutes. He sprinted, at a more human pace, up the stairs and found her packing a suitcase on their bed. When she saw him, her shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Alice."
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded of her. He crossed the room and began to undo all the progress she had made.
"I'm sixty-eight, Edward," she said simply.
"And I'm one-hundred-fifty-four."
"I'm dying," she breathed, and Edward said nothing. "How many more years do I have left? Does Alice know?"
She did, but Edward never asked her for specifics. He didn't want to know.
"When people look at us, they see a handsome young boy with his grandmother. And I see the same," she admitted. "I've been seeing it for a long time now."
He approached her slowly. He lifted his hands and gently cupped her face. "I've told you before: you do not see yourself clearly." Edward leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. "I see you, Bella. I don't see an age. I definitely don't see you as an old woman. I just see you."
Bella shook her head, meagerly trying to dislodge her face from his hands.
"And I want to be with you, Bella," he continued, "until your last breath, until the last beat of your heart. Please don't deny me that."
She could deny him nothing. Tiredly, she nestled into his arms and held tight. Forever.
* * *
Hindsight is 20/20.
The only things she wanted he couldn't give her: eternal life and babies.
Her breathing has become shallower. Her eyes have stopped fluttering beneath her lids. Edward lifts a finger and gently traces the curve of her chin, then the lines of her lips, following an invisible path to her eyebrows and forehead. Her heart is slowing, and he holds his breath after each beat, waiting for the next.
For years, he wished to hear her thoughts. Now, he wishes for the power to turn back time. He would give her what she wanted; he would change her. He hadn't known that a lifetime was just not long enough.
Bella Cullen takes her final breath. Moments later, her heart beats one last time.
Edward closes his eyes, tries to produce the sound in his mind again as if to burn it in his memory.
The world disappears around him. No one enters the room, though he's aware that they know. Their thoughts are exceedingly loud as they too mourn for her; Alice's sorrowful thoughts are especially resonant. Eighty-five years is a long time to spend with someone, but not nearly enough.
The sun sets in the west, and still he does not move. Her skin is no longer warm and pliable. It's now cold and hard beneath his fingers, only not the way it should be, nothing like his.
He plays with her hair, twirling the silky strands around his fingers. The sun rises and he does too. Edward bends over the mattress, places final kiss on her lips.
"I'll see you soon," he promises.
The End