DISCLAIMER: The character of Edward Cullen and the 'magical meadow' are borrowed from the Twilight series of books by Stephenie Meyer. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Soul Searching

Quote from Edward in Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer (pp. 276-277) – "In my world, I was already a man. I wasn't looking for love……but if I had found…" He paused, cocking his head to the side.' Edward explains away the pause as simply a matter of word selection. This story, however, proposes a deeper reason for the pause. A reason that Edward was not fully aware of at the time.

I think this story takes place between the final chapter of Eclipse and the epilogue. Let me know if you think differently.

Chapter 1

A Clearing

I sat at the edge of a magical meadow. It had appeared suddenly in the middle of the forest; I'd noticed an unexpected lightness coming from between a set of trees and was drawn to it. I stepped between two towering, moss covered trunks and there it was – a long grassy meadow, replete with jewel-colored flowers that seemed to light up the overcast day.

I'd been hiking for a while, looking for the perfect spot to stop and meditate, and this was it. My first thought was to set up in the middle of the clearing, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to stain the scenery with my human presence. Instead I dropped my thick pack at the edge of the trees, pulled out my meditation mat, and sat on it cross-legged with the charming clearing spread out before me.

Inhale. Exhale. Heart rate slowing. Body relaxing. Whenever I meditated I tried to picture a beautiful and peaceful scene. I didn't have to work my imagination at all that day, because the scene I'd just closed my eyes on was now firmly emblazoned behind my lids. My mind became a pleasantly warm bowl of mush as I shut out all external stimulation and simply existed.

Typically I would set a timer to make sure I didn't over meditate, but that day it didn't matter; I had nothing on the agenda until dusk, and it was still morning. As I naturally came out of the stupor, I saw that the faint glow of the sun, barely visible through the thick, hazy sky, had made about two hours' progress over the clearing. The next thing I noticed was that I was no longer alone.

Someone was in the middle of the clearing, and I saw that I'd been completely wrong about a human presence staining the scenery. If anything, the clearing was more stunning because of his presence. He was beautiful.

Without moving a muscle, I watched this elegant figure stretch out his arms and tilt his smooth, ivory face up toward the sky as if in prayer. He stood still as a statue. Was that what reminded me of the sculpted Greek gods I'd seen all over Europe? Or was it his Adonis-like pectorals, pressing against his shirt? Either way, a sigh escaped me, and everything changed.

In a movement so quick that I didn't even see it, the stranger's stance changed into a defensive, cat-like crouch. His back arched and his fingers splayed as if they had claws. Even from the distance, his almost glowing eyes pierced me. I heard a low growl coming from his direction. Oh no, did he have a pit bull or something with him?

In my panic, I had jumped off my mat and was now holding it protectively in front of me, because, you know, a foam mat would be extremely helpful in fighting off psycho attacks and vicious killer pets. My heart thundered in my chest, and I would have screamed, but my now paralyzed body wouldn't let me.

After staring me down for what seemed like an eternity, the stranger relaxed his stance and apologized. "Please forgive me," he said in a voice that immediately put me a tiny bit at ease. There was no way that a smooth, melodic voice like that could belong to a psycho attack killer.

"I didn't see you there, and you caught me quite by surprise," he explained.

"Oh, uh, sorry," I said, still holding my mat in front of me. My brain hadn't yet told my white knuckles to loosen their grip.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Um," I said, squinting my eyes up toward the sky to remind myself of where my mind had been before I thought I was going to die. "A couple hours, I think."

He raised a dark eyebrow that, like his deep reddish-brown hair, contrasted quite nicely with his fair complexion. "You were here before I arrived," he stated, coming carefully closer.

"Uh huh," I eloquently confirmed.

It wasn't the residual fear that had me so befuddled; it was – him. His otherworldly presence was not at all diminished by his now close proximity. Every feature was smooth and straight and perfect. His defined lips curved into just the right shape, and his thick, gorgeous hair tousled onto his forehead in just the right spots. His eyes were a deep butterscotch, shattered into a thousand little layered bits. Once you looked into those eyes, you became lost in their depths and it was extremely difficult to look away.

It wasn't just his appearance that made him special; it was the way he so fluidly moved, the way he so elegantly spoke, and the way he so attentively watched, as if every move I made was important to him. At that moment, his angelic lips were pursed and his glorious eyes were narrowed. Something about me clearly bothered him, and I sincerely hoped it was in my power to correct whatever that was.

"I am surprised I didn't notice you here," he finally said. "I usually have a very good sense about these things and know when something unfamiliar is about."

"I was sitting here in the shadows, so you wouldn't have seen me," I explained. "And I was meditating, so you wouldn't have heard me either."

"Meditating," he said to himself. He seemed to consider the word for a few moments and then said, "You must be very good." He continued to study me with perplexity and said, "Even now, something seems so familiar about you. Have ever visited here before?"

"Never. I'm from Chicago, and I've never been this far west before."

His steady gaze turned somewhat suspicious, and he asked, "What brings you here now?" He watched me intently as I answered.

"Urm, well, I'm not sure exactly. My ultimate goal is Alaska; I'm meeting friends at the end of the week in Seattle and we'll travel up together by ferry. Instead of flying with them to Seattle, I wanted to make my way west by land, sort of a Jack Kerouac thing. I've been traveling for three weeks now, and I've seen lots of amazing places, but something kept pushing me forward, and I've arrived in Washington a few days early."

He nodded his head slightly, as if accepting my answer. His expression took on a somewhat friendlier tone, but was still reserved. "I didn't see a car on the highway," he noted.

"No, I don't have a car. I'm traveling by bus and hiking…"

"Hitchhiking," he said. He looked at me through a corner of his narrowed golden eye in a disapproving manner.

"Some, but I'm being safe about it. I did my homework," I said defensively.

"So, you still haven't told me – why Forks?"

"Forks?"

"The name of the nearest town."

"Forks? Who names a town after eating utensils?" I asked. "Speaking of names -I'm Gina Gardner," I said, extending my hand toward his. He flinched and drew his hand back, quickly shoving it into his pocket.

"Gina, why are you here?" he asked firmly, not letting himself be sidetracked. I wasn't stalling because I was trying to hide something; I just didn't know how to explain why I was there when I didn't exactly understand it myself. But there was something in his authoritative tone that told me I'd better answer directly this time.

I tried to sort my thoughts to give this stranger a comprehensible account of why I happened to be in that specific forest on that specific day. I'm not sure I succeeded. "Some people I met in Idaho told me how pretty La Push was, so that's actually where I was headed. But as we drove up the highway and we reached this part of the forest, I just got this strange feeling and asked the driver to stop and let me out," I shrugged.

"He only agreed because it was so early in the day, and he figured it'd be easy enough for me to catch a safe ride the rest of the way. I was actually kind of starting to hyperventilate a little when I thought he wouldn't stop, so that's why I decided to take a mediation break."

The stranger nodded again in acceptance of my answer. Now that I took a better look at this guy, I saw that despite his refined mannerisms, he wasn't any older than I was. He was probably even younger. So why should I feel like I had to answer to him?

He suddenly smirked and said, "Enough of the interrogation. Welcome to Forks. I'm Edward, Edward Cullen."

He hadn't pulled his hand from his pocket, but his wide smile was welcoming, and the mood between us immediately relaxed. As we talked, we'd wandered into the clearing and now stood in soft grass surrounded by flowers. It was quite a romantic picture.

"Nice to meet you, Edward Cullen," I said, smiling invitingly at him.

I scanned his figure and was struck by his impeccably neat appearance. It contrasted considerably with mine, which was a bit more worn and outdoorsy.

"Did you fly in here?" I asked. He responded with a questioning look. "You're so clean and refreshed looking. And there's no way you hiked here in those shoes," I explained.

He glanced down at his crisp clothing, and his expression told me that I might have caught him in something. "I know all the secret shortcuts," he explained, quickly masking his angel face in smugness. "And my mother taught me that a gentleman always looks his best," he added for good measure.

"Ah, so it's better to look mahvelous than to feel mahvelous," I said.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind." I had to remind myself that not everyone used to spend so much time watching old eighties TV.

I've already expounded on Edward's charms. What I haven't told you yet is that I myself was an attractive girl. I'm not being conceited; it was a fact. A fact that had been verified by many an admirer. A fact that that I appreciated every time I looked in the mirror. Okay, maybe that was a bit conceited.

Well then, let's just say this -- I had pale blue/green eyes and a healthy, smooth complexion that covered a facial structure defined by high, rounded cheekbones and full lips -- and you be the judge. In those days I wore my straight, nearly jet-black hair in a short bob that complemented my curved features and set my eyes sparkling. Simple facts.

So there we were, a hyper-attractive male and an attractive female, alone in a forest clearing on a temperate, if overcast day......and nothing was happening, other than polite dialogue. This guy hadn't even given a hint of flirtation. I reflected on the way Edward had flinched when I'd reached out to shake his hand and his apparent preference for fashion over practicality. Damn - he was gay.

As I thought these things, a spontaneous smile burst onto Edward's face. I wasn't sure what had caused the smile, but I was glad it had come and basked in its glory. Gay or not, he was an amazingly beautiful creature.

The combination of my involuntary cardio workout and the approach of afternoon made me uncomfortably warm. I slipped off my jacket, uncovering a small scoop neck t-shirt that revealed a decent amount of flesh. As I tied the jacket around my waist, I saw Edward's eyes briefly flick down, examining the change of wardrobe. He looked back up with a hunger in his eye and a corner of his mouth drawn up in a small smirk of admiration. Hmm, maybe he did like girls after all.

Edward shook his head slightly, and his face resumed its more reserved aspect. I realized that I should probably leave Edward to the solitude that he had obviously sought here, but there was something about his presence that held me there. I noticed the wire from an mp3 player hanging out of his pocket and commented on it, grasping at anything that would keep the conversation going and allow me to stay with him a little longer.

"Hey, I never go anywhere without mine either," I said, smiling brightly and digging my player out of my pocket. "What were you listening to?"

Edward's smile looked a bit mischievous as he said, "Have a listen."

He handed his player to me, and I noticed that he was very careful that we didn't touch. Maybe he was some sort of germophobe. I slipped on the ear phones, and a classical piano piece played in my ears. I looked with surprise and admiration at Edward; he was definitely the most evolved male I'd ever met.

"Wow," I said, feeling a bit inferior. I decided to skip sharing my retro punk tunes with him. I didn't recognize the song, which wasn't surprising since I rarely listened to classical music. It was very pretty with many levels coming together to create a magical sound. It reminded me of Edward's voice.

As I continued listening, the chords began to feel like more than just a song; it was as if they were trying to tell me something. I looked at Edward, who was tentatively watching me as I listened. He smiled and our eyes locked. I was suddenly gripped by a vaguely familiar, but unwelcome emotion. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and my heart began to pump ferociously. My hands flew to the headphones, and I ripped them out and thrust the player back at Edward.

He looked at me with surprise and concern and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head back and forth as I tried to stem the flow of tears with the sleeve of my jacket. "I just…that song."

I'd not stopped the player, and Edward now held one of the headphones to his ear. His dark eyebrows furrowed and his perfect lips pressed together in thought. I was pretty sure he must be starting to think that I was missing a few screws, so I tried to offer up a plausible explanation.

"I guess it must be dredging up some sort of memory from the last time I heard it."

"You've never heard this song before," he said decisively, cutting me off. I snapped my head toward him with a scowl – how could he know that so positively when I wasn't even sure? "You couldn't have heard it before, because I wrote it," he explained.

"You wrote it?" I asked in a thick, teary voice.

"Yes," a very long time ago.

"What, when you were like ten?"

"Not quite that long ago," he said, examining me quizzically.

"Look, I know you must think I'm nuts. Maybe I am, but, well, I'm usually a very happy, well-adjusted person. It's just sometimes…ugh, you don't want to hear this," I said, realizing that he was a complete stranger who certainly had better things to do than talk me through a minor breakdown. Besides, talking about it was just encouraging more tears.

Edward said in his soothing, melodic voice, "I do want to hear it, Gina. Please tell me."

I thought about how unusual it was to find such caring concern in a complete stranger. Then I took a deep breath and decided to trust him. "Okay. But remember, it doesn't happen that often. What I was trying to say is that sometimes I get overwhelmed with sadness. I'm pretty sure it's not depression because it doesn't last very long. It's more like I just feel like…like I'm a hundred years old or something. Like I belong in another time, another place. Does that make any sense?"

Edward didn't say anything, but stood with his beautiful head tilted to the side, watching me closely with his amber eyes and listening intently to every word I said.