Drink and dance and laugh and lie,

Love, the reeling midnight through

For tomorrow we shall die!

(But, alas, we never do.)

-Dorothy Parker

Loss (the sequel to She Understands)

Jasper POV

Bella had gone home, and we were left with a stony-faced Edward. He had always been somewhat careful with showing emotion, since we all pretty much knew how the others were feeling at any given time. This was different though- a rigid mask that transformed his face into a grim, statue-like facade.

I sensed his emotions hesitantly.

My God. There were so many, all churning about. In the seething turmoil, I found fear...anger...sorrow...desperation...love...longing...despair...self-loathing (an old favorite of Edward's), and...loss?

My brow furrowed as I tried to puzzle it out.

Edward read my thoughts, and slowly turned around so that his eyes met mine. Quickly, his feelings went numb, as he shut them away, shoved his very heart into a shadowy corner of his enigmatic mind.

I gasped, for his face betrayed the lie.

The loss penetrated every inch of his face, and the effect was dizzying.

I didn't understand the loss. Bella had already forgiven him, (to reassure his guilt), and for some reason she forgave me.

Alice danced in, grabbed my hand, and lightly pulled me out of the room. She was smiling, but it was tight, strained, and I could feel her frustration. And she felt that same loss.

"What am I missing here?" I asked her quietly.

She sighed, shook her head as if she were wishing some unpleasant truth away (which she was), and told me.

"We're leaving."

"When?" I tried to keep my voice level.

"In a matter of days."

"Are- are you certain?"

She nodded. "It's set in stone." She looked like she was willing away impossible tears.

A few days later, we left.

Loading the last box into the car, Edward mechanically moved to open his door. He almost smiled, remembering some special memory, and that let down the guard around his emotions.

They crashed over me. A tidal wave, swirling and sucking me in. I looked at his face, and it was almost electrifying, his careful defense fallen away. His features seemed charged with the cataclysmic despair and loss he felt.

I sank to my knees as the wave pulled me under.

And I did not resurface.

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.
(Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 3, p.84)