Silhouette of a Stranger

Summary:

Isabella Swan has always held a grudge against Edward after Volterra. Now she teaches English Literature at the London University. But, what happens to her plan to avoid vampires and the Cullen's when an unexpected guest arrives.

DISCLAIMER: I am not Stephanie Meyer; all characters in this story are of her creation.

Thanks again to "Angie_stl" for all for your support and wondrous praise. You've kept me on my toes.

Chapter 1: Tainted Reality

"I dreamed I was missing, you were so scared

But no one would listen, 'cause no one else cared

After my dreaming, I woke with this fear

What am I leaving when I'm done here?"

Linkin Park, Leave out all the rest

She meandered the car through the cobbled streets, red flags falling from windows and doors as they whistled mournfully in the wind. The sky was painted a festive pale cerulean, the opposite of my hurried and dishevelled thoughts. My fingers were tight around the door handle; just waiting for the signal to leap out amongst the sea of flesh was agonising.

I had the door open before the car pulled to a halt in a small street, a mass of red capes obscuring the windscreen. My heart thudded painfully against my ribcage. Her small voice was a sharp hiss, "They're everywhere!"

I cringed at the sudden though of launching myself through the mass of people. She pointed towards the winding street that was exposed to raw sunlight, it blinding me even further causing me to cover my eyes with my arm. "Forget about them. You have two minutes. Go, Bella, go!"

I didn't pause in my running to see Alice melt into the distant background, but rather hurled through the crowd, forcing my body-weight against the wall of skin and bone, I was glad I couldn't understand their foreign curses.

The principle plaza was bathed in daylight, every cobblestone and crevice in the walled city was uncovered by the light. The clock was visible – its omnipresent mechanical hands taunting me with each time consuming moment, it moving closer and closer to the moment I was dreading. I was glad for its visibility, as it drove me to move faster against the pain lashing my body like a whip. I forced my shoulder against a large woman, the red scarf draped around her neck like a column of blood weeping from a laceration. A child was perched upon his father's shoulder, an expression of laughter drawn on his thin lips, a pair of plastic vampire fangs perched upon his teeth.

I strained my hearing for the sound of a gasp, cry of discovery or even a gut-curdling scream. The sound of Edward stepping into the light. To reveal himself. To join me in death. Nothing came.

The absence of their shrieks was trembling and I shoved through a pillar of the ever-present red, my own voice hidden within the folds of muscle in my throat. I was foot-lengths away from the fountain in the middle of the plaza. Throwing my strides over the edge, my cries of relief were silent sobs in the screeching amusement of the occupied crowd; I sprinted through the knee-deep water that stung my legs with an icy chill.

The throng of people parted for me, my dripping wet clothes a bad omen, and I ran. Forcing every each of my exhausted power into my legs, heaving every thought I had of Edward into my pace, I hurried towards his shadowed figure as he walked into the sunlight.

I screamed relentlessly. "Edward!" His face never registered my yells.

The clock struck and it rung in my ears, and in the uneven ground below my feet and it drove me forwards. He stepped closer, his shirt dipping to the floor and his chest was exposed – diamonds lacing his skin like tiny shards of mirrors. His face was tattooed behind my eyes.

The clock tolled again, this time louder. It shook my whole being, my rib-cage vibrating with its inexorable ticking.

A family of four was standing with their backs to Edward. A small girl aged around five, her long curtain of blonde hair flowing down her back in the now stiff wind, turned and gaped at Edward, her eyes wide with a sudden excitement. She tugged at her father's cape, cooing for his attention.

"No!" I screamed. "Edward, look at me!"

He smiled lightly, my presence to him a simple hallucation of what I might be in death. He stepped forward hesitantly, his breaths deep and echoing my strained footsteps, his full body encased in sunlight. The ring of shadow around his feet glistened with an incandescent shimmer, the extensive influence of his torture over leaving me playing on his face – the shallow cheekbones, thin lips that were dry and cracked, his eyes coal-black and dark crescents hanging below them.

I threw my whole weight against him, if he had not caught me in his arms as a reflex I knew I would be laying on the hard stone floor. The clock chimed on the hour. Edward pushed against me, his powerful grasp restricting the blood-flow in my upper arms. "Amazing," he sounded somewhat awed. "Carlisle was right."

"Edward, open your eyes. I'm alive." He didn't respond and my heart twisted, extracting every breath from my lungs. I stumbled against finding my silent voice.

He stroked my cheekbone adoringly like he had done before the terrible events of the past few months. Even in being the most danger any mortal human could ever have been in – let's say immortal vampires wanting to eat you and the love of your life wanting to die cause he thought you were dead! – I felt as if the hole that had been punched into my chest and had been slowly eroding and corrupting my thoughts of Edward was finally healing. Inhaling his scent and touching his face was a dream. My hallucations of Edward had not done him in justice – now that I could see every sculptured bone and chiselled features in his face I realised this.

He continued to push against me, unaware of his surroundings or situation. The clock gave its final chime, it ricocheting through the plaza with a thunderous roar.

My arms ached as they pushed against him. It was like forcing all of my weight against a brick wall. "We have to move. They can't be far behind." I cried uselessly. My last words fell empty in the air as a red haze fell against my vision, two pairs of eyes watching me closely. Edward felt limp in my grasp. The diamonds that once were embedded in his granite skin dimming and losing their internal shine. Pain flooded through my fingertips and my body met the ground. Everything went black.

#$!

I awoke in a fit of sweat and laboured breathing to the ringing of a fist against my front door. I rubbed the crease between my brows and checked my alarm clock, hitting the button sharply so the time was projected against the wall as the curtains were shut and my room was eerily dark. It was 9.45.

I threw off my sheets hastily, silently cursing my nightmares. Throwing on my cardigan to keep the edge of the chill from my skin, I strode hurriedly to my front door and looked through the small peep hole, my tired eyes making my vision slightly blurred. It was Tessa, my colleague. I recognised her instantly by the stream of red hair that was bundled at the back of her head, stray coils framing her angular face – she had the prettiest green eyes, they are bottle-green and in one eye, if you looked close enough, you could see a small flick of blue in the iris.

"Are you awake in there?" she shouted, rapping her fist against the door harder. "Bella, get up!"

I pulled the chain away from the door and twisted the handle, the door swung inward. "Morning," I yawned, stretching my arms groggily and placing a hand over my mouth as I displayed my exhaustion in the form of a deep yawn.

"Morning?" she shouted, strolling in, her Prada bag draped over her shoulder proudly. "That was hours ago, Bella. You slept in?" she questioned, eying my suspiciously as I sat down on the couch and pulled my feet up. Tessa had always been a frantic about time-keeping. "Didn't you!" she enforced when I refused to answer.

I gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry," I tried to apologise.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. This isn't going to look good when it comes to reviewing our records," her expression was stern.

"I know," I murmured, tugging at a loose string on an old cushion. "You know, sometimes I think drinking coffee late at night isn't good for me."

"To right it isn't," Tessa laughed softly, her mood lightening. She slipped her bag onto the floor gently and adjusted the sleeves of her shirt at her wrists. Tessa was only small, but even for her size she packed a punch. She had been the first I had met when I had come here. We had clicked within an instant. Now she was the only reason I was awake half the time, otherwise I'd be trying to catch some more sleep.

"Dreams again?" she asked, sitting down next to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder condolingly.

"Ten points for the correct answer," I tried to reply with some enthusiasm, however it came out dull and lifeless. My voice was now hiding away when it came to my recent dreams.

"You have to tell someone, Bella? If they're going to start interfering with your work, that's not right," she sighed heavily.

I looked at her, desperate for some kind of reassurance. "Do you ever have dreams that keep you awake at night?"

"Oh yes, of course," she giggled, putting a hand to her throat lightly.

I raised a quizzical eyebrow. "So, tell me. I bet there so much more tragic than mine."

"I dream of the day when Jonny Depp finally asks me to marry him and then," I started to laugh but I silenced myself when she turned her head sharply in my direction, her eyes narrowed. "I will, of course, say yes! Then we'll plan the whole wedding – the theme will be fantasy, no wait, I want a traditional wedding – anyways, then we'll go on the perfect honeymoon and commit to our love. You know?" she nudged me playfully in the shoulder. "See how he performs in the bedroom?"

I gagged, choking on the hilarity of her dreams. "Don't go into detail on that one. You can just imagine that one yourself," I sniggered, feeling almost better.

"Oh don't worry, honey. It's quite personal anyways." She winked cheekily before standing up, brushing at her dark pencil skirt, and rushed into the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?" she shouted, the shuffling of the appliances being heard a few seconds afterwards.

"Sure," I replied. "I'm just going to have a quick shower first though."

Locking the bathroom door, I turned on the shower and let it warm up first, steam covering the glass panels in sheets of mist. The tiled flooring was cold against my bare feet. Looking into the small mirror I examined my exhausted reflection. My brown eyes looked tired and faded, my hair was even worse – it was matted to my head in what looked like a bird's nest of matted mahogany hair. I ran my fingers through it; however I gave up when it become painful as it got caught in the tangles.

Stripping my clothes off quickly to avoid the nip of the cold, I stepped into the shower and turned the nozzle to the highest setting, letting the hot water trickle over my face and warm me to the core. I stood there for five minutes just to feel the spray of water against my body – to praise the moment as the knotted muscles in my back relax and I felt my shoulders slump comfortably. Grabbing the lavender shampoo, I preceded to washing my hair.

The dream washed over me again and again as I cleaned my hair, the smell of lavender reminding me of the Cullen's. I had ran for Edward, given my life to him for safe keeping, but when I had went to save him he had threw it all back in my face. "Go home, Bella," he had told me sternly, as my heart had leapt into my throat all of a sudden. "We can never be together, I never loved you," he finished. That's what he had said to make me leave, and I believed. He had gotten his wish alright. He would never see me again – I hated him now, every particle and fibre of his being, I resented against it. I wish he knew it as well. Edward had ripped my heart out and had trampled across it. Now I was returning the favour, if he had a heart.

Because of him I was almost killed by the Volturi – my neck inches away from Aro's fangs. He had bargained my mortality for our escape, if I was changed we would be let go. Of course, the bargain was changed according to Edward's manipulating decisions.

After that I had to spend years with a pack of mongrels to protect me through high school as the Cullen's left Forks, with a decoy I was to know nothing about. "It's only a small protection detail," he had said. When I had the first chance, I left Forks and went to college to study for an education degree. Now I taught English Literature at a university in London, in England. Hopefully it was far enough to stay away from the supernatural, and the Cullen's.

The soap that has been clutched tightly between my fingers slipped from my grasp and clattered to the base of the shower loudly. If that didn't demonstrate how much I hated Edward, than nothing would – taking my anger out on a bar of innocent soap!

"That feels better," I said, coming out of my room, having gotten ready in my clean skirt and pearl-white blouse, running my fingers through my damp hair dutifully.

"I'm glad, worked off the extra stress?" Tessa asked, handing me the coffee and putting a plate of fresh toast on the table, the butter melting into the toast nicely.

My stomach gurgled hungrily. "You're a genuine life-saver, Tessa. What time are we due in?"

"We were going to brain-storm our idea's together this morning for the big presentation at the end of the week, but I think we can leave that till tomorrow night," she added. "The time now is half-past ten, but we are not officially needed until twelve." She glanced at her watch and then sipped at her tea – Tessa was mostly full on British with her traditions, she had never even tasted coffee before I had pulled her into the closest Starbucks.

She's such a liberal British role-model. I'm just the small-town American outcast. Even the students notice my appalling and unrehearsed mimic of the British dialect. It's viral amongst us American's, who ever thought the British were as complicated as they are?

I bite into my toast ravenously, savouring the taste. "I thought Professor Riley was really bugging us for it be finished soon as," I noted, clicking my fingers.

"I'm sure Mr Riley Biers can wait a couple of centuries while I sort my best friend out with a little shopping, the annual Christmas Ball is coming up and you have nothing to wear," she answered exasperated, her eyes live with an manic excitement

I groaned, pulling the hairbrush through my snarled hair to hide away the sour expression that was pulled tightly on my lips. And with Christmas, brings the dreaded snow days and the constant slipping on the pavement ice, I thought wildly.

"By nothing to wear, does your pragmatics imply I'll be going in my birthday suit?" I questioned, glancing at her side-wards with a raised eyebrow.

Tessa rolled her eyes instinctively; the clatter of the saucer and tea-cup ringing in my ears as she placed them gently on the diminutive coffee table, the tea sloshing around inside the cup. "I'm sure Luke would love to see that," she sniggered.

I folded my hands at my lap, "Are you still trying to play that silly trivial dating game with me? I've told you, I am not, and never will be convinced, to go to another one of them imprudent and ludicrous dating meetings again. The last one was thwarting enough."

Her amusement didn't settle, but was profoundly weighty and extreme in the way her laughter didn't cease to resonate in the room for at least a few minutes. It sounded like the heavy thrum of a bass drum rumbling to the pulse of Tessa's giggles.

My friend has such strange methods of dating, and rather high opinions of relationships, I reflected to myself. She has three rules: One – Have a six-pack! Two – At first don't respond to his attention, it pulls him in further. Three – If he walks all over you, walk out, you're the boss of the relationship. Like that's going to work. I'm destined to be a spinster.

"Stop laughing, Teresa," the use of her full name, brought her attention back down from the clouds, I even thought I heard the click of a switch as she was pulled down from heaven. She scowled profoundly. Circles of blush were painted on my cheeks as my face burnt with embarrassment, "It was an accident. He forgave me," I tried to reason.

"He walked out of that meeting looking like he missed the toilet by an hour. Honestly, Bella, I think his forgiveness," she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "was a falsehood. He totally conned you on the spot, sweetie. He's never been back to a meeting since that night."

I shrugged my shoulders, "At least he smelt like wine for the rest of the night rather than that outlandish cologne he was wearing."

"At least he was trying, unlike someone," she poked me in the arm.

I gazed at her apologetically, "He smelt like an old drawer that hadn't been opened in a millennia. It was far too musty for my taste."

"You have such unrealistic expectations in men, Bella, it's illusory."

I snorted, a word lodged in my throat. "You have no idea."

#$!

Tessa had dragged me by the arm across a multitude of shops, all of their dressier items for the Christmas ball far too expensive and couldn't be afforded by a simple teacher's salary. Tessa's father was part of a rich oil refinery so her purse could meet the expenses of anything by the slip of her dad's debit card. I rolled my eyes, if only Charlie's unpretentious job as the chief of police filled my pockets – unfortunately, Forks most wanted criminal list had been dwindling lately so work was scarce.

That reminds me, I haven't called Charlie in two weeks. His fatherly worry will be hyper-drive. Also, my erratic and unpredictable mother will want an update on my speed dating endeavours.

London's underground was packed with loads of people; I was squashed between two burly lawyers in suits with Tessa's bags spilled across my knees. "I think you have maximised your spending limits in about an hour," I told her.

Like I had predicted, with every new shop we had hit, Tessa came out with at least three new purchases. At the breakneck rate she was moving at – it was almost at vampire speed – she would have to change her clothes four times every day to use them up in a week. She would have gotten on great with Alice, my throat clenched at the thought.

"Don't be so morbid, Bella. I did a good deed by donating my money away to the needy workers in the shops," she said.

"In return, I'm sure they would gladly return the favour by packing your items for you," I replied, the train jerking so the two lawyers sitting by me were nudging me in the ribs painfully as they sat unknowingly.

We will be stopping at Oxford Circus in a few minutes, please remember to take your belongings with you when you leave, the speaker on the train announced. I breathed a sigh of deep relief. One more stop to go and then I could get off this nightmare transport.

Tessa rummaged through her bags, "One of your bags hasn't swallowed up your purchases now has it?" I questioned, watching carefully.

"In that case, my new pair of gloves is being digested right now amongst my lost scarf and red sweater in the folds of this bag," Tessa grumbled, on her knee's searching frantically for any sign of her missing attire. She cursed quietly, "Dammit. That's the third time this week."

The train lurched to a sudden halt, wrenching me around in my seat and the bags dropping to the floor. The two lawyers that were sat next to me stood up amongst the throng of people and stumbled towards the door, their thick gravelly voices lost amongst the swarm of flesh and chatter.

"Can't help a lady with her bags," I growled unpleasantly.

Tessa placed a comforting hand on my wrist, pulling my scowl away from their retreating figures. "They're jerks, Bella. It must be heredity."

I tugged a lose strand of hair behind my ear, "Are you associated with their un-gentleman like manners?"

"Oh, yes I am," she slurred, dropping her head as she gathered the contents of the fallen bags and packing it away hurriedly.

The doors still hadn't shut and the train sat idle in the station like a giant metal monster and we were now seated within its steal-framework ribcage. A shudder rippled up my spine. "How do you know them?" I asked curiously.

"They are friends with Jack at the law firm he is employed at, they work together. They're both so bizarre and out-of-this-world. My brother even admits that their peculiar."

I shouldered her playfully, "I must have eye problems because I didn't seen antenna or the green skin on either of them. Scratch out the option that they are aliens."

"More like alienated," she suggested, her lips pursed in a tight line.

Just before the train started to growl underneath us, like it was being wound up like a string toy before being released to move, I risked a peak and gazed upon the two deathly pale lawyers I had been sat next to. Their faces were somewhat familiar, but my brain couldn't think through the thick haze.

Next stop Warren Street, the announcer declared over the speaker as the train pulled from the station.

As we rode towards our destination, Tessa was silent and her eyes never reached beyond the ground – something is on her mind – but I didn't intrude on her stillness. Surely if something was wrong she could confide in me.

My mind racked over every face I had ever seen trying to find a proverbial match to the two strangers: one had a burly build and looked out of character in a suit, menacing even, with cropped black hair and brown eyes, his skin was also tainted with an olive complexion underneath his pale skin. The other was smaller than the first, but he looked to some extent threatening in the way he smiled, revealing his teeth and licking his lips, with swooping dark hair and grey monotonous eyes.

"Look at this," my voice was sharp and it stung Tessa awake from her reverie, I felt like every pair of eyes was on me, I shrunk away self-consciously. "Someone must have dropped it," I said, looking at the small black ring I had picked up from the floor.

"That thing, it's like an ugly duckling," Tessa noted, surveying the ring for a second before wrinkling her nose in disgust and turning away.

It was if the whole train of people were being weighted down by an adverse and undesirable hush, like the air was thick with a smothering mist and it created an eerie stillness in the carriages of the train, Tessa included.

"Strange," I murmured to myself, running my finger lightly over the design of the ring. It was completely black and it fit my finger perfectly, in the middle was the etched design of a coal-black dahlia. Something at the back of my mind tingled, but I took no notice.

Our slow journey continued in an unnatural peace and quiet.

We came to our stop faster than I had expected and when the underground stopped and the doors slid open, myself and Tessa, my hands red and raw from carrying so many bags already, staggered off and onto the platform.

"Thank God for that, I thought we would never get off." Tessa exclaimed, taking a deep breath. Blood flooded her cheeks, fighting away the deathly paleness that had crept over her.

"Myself included, it was li –" my sentence was quickly cut off when I caught a glimpse of a man stepping onto the train, beautiful dark skin with dreadlocks half-way down his back. The train soon disappeared into the underground tunnels and with it, took the mysterious man that sent goosebumps over my skin.

"Earth to Bella. Are you alive in there?" she tapped at my forehead.

I blinked a few times to rid myself of the image, "Sorry. Now what's so important you broke off my heavenly daze," I asked my sarcasm more than subtle.

"Put your walking feet on," she tapped her watch. "Otherwise we are going to be late."

Picking up the bags hastily and holding onto them tightly, we spun on our heels and jogged up to the ticket machines, slotting them in quickly and then pushing through the revolving bar and shoving through the crowd – they aimed curses at us we continued to press on. Dashing up the stairs we were blinded primarily by the sun, I shaded my eyes with my hand, and then hurried, with the bags threatening to trip us up, down Tottenham City Road. We meandered through a labyrinth of winding streets, I was grateful for the tall primal walls of the shops to shield me from the penetrating rays of the sun, and emerged on Malet Street just as a heard Big Ben toll on the hour.

#$!

Birkbeck College, part of the London University, was abandoned, there was only the odd straggler of a late student and the fast scurry of a teacher, their hands filled with a column of papers ready to photocopy or distribute.

I took a deep breath, hurrying down the narrow corridor of red walls. "Hope I'm not late," I murmured, quickening my pace until I was almost jogging.

Tessa had departed and went to teach her own class, her's was nearer to the front of the complex building of twisting passageways. Running up two flights of stairs, keeping my eyes on my feet to make sure I didn't trip, I came towards a strip of offices which belonged to the lecturers.

"Late again, Bella," Neville, a teaching assistant with smoggy glasses, called from his office. He must have a free period this morning, I recalled.

I stopped momentarily at the frame of his doorway and peered in, "Tessa had me across half of London searching for an outfit for the Christmas Ball. I think she bought half of London," I replied, with a half-smile.

"Now, Bella, save your exaggeration for the lecture, I have a free-lesson and for now I want to avoid anything to do with English. I need a break," he said, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head.

I gave him the thumbs up, "I have to go, class and all."

"By all means, go. I didn't meant to keep you," he apologised, waving me away.

I stopped by my small partially-furnished office, checking the time warily on the clock. I can just make it, if I hurry, I thought, already opening a desk door and storing my bag inside and locking it away for save-keeping. Surveying myself quickly in the mirror; I felt my hair sticking to my face, using my fingers to brush it away and tie it up into a loose bun and rubbing away any smudged makeup. At least I can look presentable, I gathered the already prepared work notes, not even noticing the thick brown envelope lying on my desk and left for the classroom.

"Perhaps she's absent," a student mumbled as they strode into the lecture hall, already having heard of my nonattendance in the classroom, not noticing my approaching presence.

"I highly doubt it: late, yes, off, I don't think so," another one countered. "Professor Swan would never not come into class," Lauren, a small and perky student said, pulling the straps of her backpack off her shoulders.

I ran inside to meet the stares of many gazing eyes – some irritated by my presence, others happy to find they weren't to be submitted to torture of a substitute lecturer. Reaching my desk at the front of the room, I lay down the pile of sheets and rubbed my sore hands together. "Good morning, class. How are you today?"

Some mumbled their reply; other's shouted it ecstatically, waving their hands in the air to catch my attention. "I hope you all have your copy of Jane Eyre, we're going to continue taking notes on the chapters," I stated.

Picking up my own battered copy with post-it notes littering the pages with speedy writing, I opened to the page required, "Chapter fifteen please, students."

There was an echoing shuffle of pages and I caught the smell of parchment and ink, "Now, what do you think is Rochester's intention is when telling Jane about his and Adele's past?"

In the crowd I thought I caught a sight of a student with a tuff of bronze hair. I blinked twice, concealing my perplexity as the students looked around nervously for an answer to my question.

Tapping my foot, I decided to end their puzzlement. I bit my lip, "Mr Rochester is tormented by his awareness of his past sins and misdeeds, therefore he confides in Jane about his past with Adele's mother Celine Varens–"

Pen's scratched against paper furiously, as I took a breath relaxing the knots in my chest. "Celine was in relations with another man, and Rochester ended the relationship immediately after finding out. He always denied he was Adele's father, after Celine's claims–"

From the corner of my eye I caught the shadowed figure sitting in one of the back rows emerge; bronze hair, liquid golden eyes, skin as pale as a lily's and a smile curving at the corner of his lips.

It couldn't be. Not Edward.

My heart lurched as his eyes met mine directly and the book fell flat from my grasp onto the floor, the multitude of coloured sticky notes floating in the air like a cloud of burning cinders before dropping to the floor and lying like ash.