I. September 2005

"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently." –Agnes De Mille

To the human ear, the Cullen household was presumably silent. Alice Cullen sat at the computer desk in the living room, reviewing Roberto Cavalli's winter collection in anticipation of the holidays. Jasper was on the couch a few feet away, reading the psychology text he received yesterday in the mail. Precisely every four seconds, he turned the page; he was reading slowly, trying to make the book last him longer than an hour. Rosalie sat at the vanity in her bedroom, brushing her hair and looking at herself as usual, and Emmett was perusing the latest issue of Field & Stream on their bed. Carlisle was in his study, researching a case for the hospital and Esme kneeled on the front walk, weeding the garden along the pathway. All was peaceful except for Edward pacing in his room.

"I swear Jasper, if he doesn't make his mind up soon, I'm going to go crazy." Alice huffed, turning away from the computer to look at her husband. "All I get are glimpses. Constantly. Of everywhere and nowhere at the same time and even for me, it's unbelievably distracting."

"Cut him some slack, Alice. He's in a great deal of pain," was Jasper's hushed reply to his wife. "The anguish he's feeling right now—I've only felt it one other time in my life."

It was implicitly understood that Edward's pain was as unbearable as the first time vampire venom ran through Jasper Hale's human veins. She stuttered in disbelief while Jasper remained rigid. The pain was only getting worse. It wasn't physical pain, which he sometimes felt flashes of, but pure and unadulterated emotional anguish. Jasper had no idea a being could inflict such self-hatred upon himself.

Alice gasped when, finally, Edward came to a decision. Her eyes glassed over, and while she realized her brother's entire world was crashing around them, the house remained peaceful and quiet. With Alice's comprehension of her vision, the anguish Jasper felt increased ten-fold.

"I couldn't see it then," she murmured, heartbroken. "But I do now—he's leaving… we're leaving. Oh, Edward, this will break her even more than it will break you," she said, more to herself than her brother who could undoubtedly hear her from his room upstairs. "What can I do to change this?" She looked up, asking her husband.

Jasper shrugged. Even with his strategic expertise and psychological abilities, he knew once Edward's mind was made up, little could be done. And although he wasn't just giving up, Jasper's own guilt did not help the backflow of guilt and self-disgust emanating from the second floor.

The house was now charged with electricity. Every member of the family had heard Alice and Jasper's quick exchange, and they paused, unintentionally holding their breath, waiting for some sort of declaration, a commotion to announce whatever extreme decision Edward had come to in the past thirty seconds.

Edward emerged from his room for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. He crossed the hall to Carlisle's study and tapped the wooden doorframe, unnecessarily announcing his presence.

"You said you were interested in a position in Ithaca. Perhaps you could see about procuring it?"

If this came as any surprise to Carlisle, there was no indication when he spoke calmly aloud.

"Son, if it is your decision to leave her, I will not argue it. But I pray you have considered all other avenues before resorting to this one."

Alice could hear Rosalie hiss angrily—although it seemed directed more towards Edward than anyone—and Emmett accidentally ripped a page from the magazine he was reading. Jasper could feel Esme's immediate despair as she placed the trowel beside her and stood to join her husband. Alice and Jasper stood as well, and Rosalie and Emmett came to the hallway.

Edward looked at them wearily, the defeat and fatigue on his face remnant of another time in his life, a darker and more debasing time. Behind his expression, his eyes begged for reprieve—he looked as though he was burning alive. "I apologize if I'm inconveniencing you in any manner. It would be prudent if we left quickly and without warning, so let me know as soon as this will be possible." He spoke politely, but expressionlessly—not as though he were addressing his family members. "If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to."

Rosalie growled at him. "I may not approve of her because of what you are and what she is, but this is inexcusable, Edward—human or not. Your mother raised you better than this, and Carlisle and Esme taught you better." Emmett made a motion to hold her back, obviously afraid of Edward's temper at odds with his wife's audacity. However, Edward made no such response. Rosalie's anger flared as she anticipated a classic Edward retort, but there was only emptiness in his eyes. If the concept weren't so ridiculous, it seemed to Jasper as though Edward hadn't enough energy to fight back.

Mournfully, he looked directly into Rosalie's eyes. "I am putting her safety above my selfish wants. I see no reason to justify my personal decisions with you, Rose."

The Cullen household returned to silence once again—it was almost as though the exchange had never come to pass. Jasper might have questioned whether the last minute had even existed in time, if it weren't for the charged emotional climate in the house. Every member of the family was tense; anger, hurt, despair, and guilt raged through the house. He knew in that single, muted moment Edward made his decision, the Cullen family dynamic had been changed irrevocably.