Bella, with dementia. I just wanted to explore their relationship if Edward had never changed her. The setting is in the Cullen's house.
--
He walks into her room, like so many days, months, and years before that. She sits up in bed and pushes her tray away from her.
"I'm done with my dinner."
His head shakes in response and he removes the brown tray from her bed. She smiles at him and he returns the gesture, only halfheartedly.
She shakes her head, as if trying to remember something.
"Come here." Her voice is shaky and not how it used to be. But he walks towards her, close enough for her to touch.
She slowly runs her wrinkled fingers over his smooth nose. She guides them over his closed eyelids and pale lips. If Edward could cry, he would be right then. She stops suddenly and withdraws her fingers from his face.
"You remind me of someone, you know," she says, her milky brown eyes surveying his face.
He nods slowly, a wave of emotions crashing over him. "Do I?" He swears he can hear his voice crack from his unshed tears, but knows that vampires can't cry.
"Yes," she pauses, thinking. "I think I knew someone like you."
"I'm sure you did." He gives a wobbly smile and checks her time table. He takes a bottle and shakes out two pills.
"Time to take your medicine, Bella," Edward says, setting the pills in her hand. Their hands touch briefly and he can barely feel that spark that used to connect them. She can almost remember what love felt like.
"So tell me, Edward, have you ever been in love? I don't remember a thing about being young." She chuckles softly and he hopes she doesn't hear his vampire heart break.
"Yeah," he whispers, loudly enough for her to hear. "I've been in love before."
She sighs. "It must've been wonderful. Was it wonderful, Edward?"
"Yes. She was ... is my whole life." He looks past her eyes, gradually slipping into his memories.
Her voice brought him out of his reverie. "So romantic. It must be nice," she comments.
"What?" he manages to choke out, blinking back to reality.
"Being in love," she responds. He nods again and takes her shaky hand in his, barely remembering the feel of her soft skin.
"You were in love once," he tells her.
"Really," she states. "An old lady like me, in love? It must have been a long, long time ago."
"Oh yes, years ago."
"Please tell me the story." Her old eyes plead and he gently strokes her white hair.
She yawns, and he glances at the clock. "It's best you get to sleep now, Bella."
She pouts a little and he pretends that she's still seventeen and in love with him. He pretends, just for old time's sake.
"Silly Bella," he murmurs. "I promise to tell you the story tomorrow morning. Let dreams consume you, my Bella." He sees her eyelids get heavier and heavier until they close shut for good. Maybe in sleep she would remember.
He watches her for a few moments, wishing she was younger. Wishing she still loved him. Wishing for a different life. Wishing that when she went to sleep, she still dreamt of him. That when she called his name, she was doing to because she was in love. But that's all he did was wish. So, before he closed the door of her room, he whispered the one thing he had always known.
"I love you."
--
I'm not sure yet if it should be a twoshot or not.