Hello. This is my very first fanfic, but I'm really excited about it because I think it's got a good plot and I write pretty well. If you're thinking that this is boring then don't bother, but I would really appreciate it if you gave my story a chance. I don't want to say it's a lot better than it sounds, because everyone does, but it really is. This picks up from mid-New Moon; this is the where I would've taken the saga although Stephenie's done a spectacular job (far better than me).

Remember when Bella approached the ledge of the cliff and jumped into the water? Well, rewind a bit and that's where my story comes in. What if Bella hadn't jumped and Jacob never saved her? What if Alice hadn't come and Rosalie hadn't called Edward? And what if Edward never came back? Now Bella is a journalist working for the very prestigious New Republic in Long Beach, New Jersey.

If you read along, and you honestly don't like it? And you want to print it out and rip it into peices, or pour sulfuric acid over it just to show how much you don't like it? I'm okay with that. I wouldn't mind, and I don't want you wasting your time if you're not getting anything out of it. But it you do like it, then please stick with me. I may not update every week, or even every month, but the chapters are long enough to keep you satisfied, and most importantly, it's just a really good story.

P. S. Below I put a sample of a song that really embodies the essence of this first chapter.

"…I've said goodbye so many times in my life

I'm surprised it's still so hard for me

to see that I should start living my life

or I will die unfulfilled and empty

I come to, still in the chair

as yellow angels step with care

My spinal cord's still sending shocks

but my life's in need of repair…"

SENSES FAIL - YELLOW ANGELS

1. WAITING

My gaze flickered to the digital clock mounted atop my computer screen for the umpteenth time in the past two hours.

Just five more minutes.

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but everyday in this cramped cubicle seemed more monotonous than the last. Walk through the large, glass office doors at 6 am on the dot, check in with my irritating boss, Mr. Newman, and give Christine, the intern I was training, something to keep her busy. Then the rest of the morning was spent filing reports, running errands, and playing internet chess, waiting for 3:00 so I could leave. This was about as exciting as it got, with the exception of attending press meetings every now and then.

I glanced at the clock for the last time. Finally.

I slid all my papers into my briefcase, threw on my jacket and breezed down the hallway.

"Leaving so soon?" asked Mr. Newman as I passed his office. "A word in my office, Miss Swan?"

I stopped and slowly spun around, making my way back to his office. I stood in his doorway with my arms crossed, bag swinging against my hip.

"Afternoon, Mr. Newman.", I said a bit warily.

"Don't bother with the formalities. Sit down, have a drink with me." He moved to pour me a glass from the large bottle of bourbon on his desk. Only the finest, of course.

"I have other responsibilities to attend to, Mr. Newman," I hinted. "I really think I should be going now."

"Bella, it's fine to just call me Mark. We're just friends having a conversation." He paused. "You know, you really should take a day off sometime, relax."

I smiled stiffly. "Thanks, but that doesn't do me much good now that my shift is over."

He laughed, saying, "It's the thought that counts, right?"

"Have a nice day, Mark," I threw over my shoulder as I walked out of his office. Today, I was especially not in the mood for his advances on me, and I really did have other commitments that required my attention.

On weekday afternoons after work, I went straight from the office to St. Jude's Children's Hospital. There, I did volunteer work with the little kids until about 7 pm. I checked in with the receptionist at the front desk, then made my way to the staff lounge bathroom, where I changed into the required hospital scrub shirt and pants. After putting my hair in a ponytail, I pulled on the biodegradable latex-free gloves and pushed open the door to the recreation center.

My eyes swept across the playroom, taking in the scene. Here all the kids came from their rooms in wheelchairs, hooked to IV drips, or even on gurneys sometimes. It felt so good to know that I played a part in helping these children forget why they were in a hospital in the first place. Even if it was only temporary, these kids deserved every bit of happiness possible, since many of them only had a couple more years at the most. The other volunteers and I joined the kids in fun activities like coloring pictures, racing little toy cars, watching TV, or just singing along to music together. It barely felt like work except for the constant level of enthusiasm you had to keep up. I loved all of the kids so much and sometimes, this was the only place where I really felt like I belonged.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a gentle tugging on my pant leg. I looked down to see my favorite of all the children, Angel.

Angel was an adorable six year old girl with wispy, golden hair and the biggest, most innocent ice blue eyes I'd ever seen. She was beautiful and for some unknown reason it was her that I'd connected with so strongly, almost immediately after I met her at the age of five.

But there was more.

Angel was so perceptive; it was almost scary for such a small child to be able to see so much, but then, she'd been through so much in her life already, that I guess it was nothing to her by now. Angel was a foster child. She'd been diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma about six months ago. The five tumors in her face and neck were actually found some time before that, but were declared benign. It was only discovered much later, during one of her regular check-ups with her foster parents, that the tumors had turned cancerous. She'd been here ever since.

She was such a strong little girl, but not at all oblivious to the fact that her life had been drastically and unfairly shortened. In her worst moods, she'd be down, mute and morose. On those days, it was most difficult for me to face Angel because her zombie-like state brought unpleasant flickers of the past up from the depths of my mind, right up to linger behind my eyes. But I stayed, talking to her, even though she never spoke back, preferring to gaze into my eyes with alarming calm. I'd sit by the bedside, stroke her hand, and pour my heart out to the silence. Angel knew things about me that I'd never told anyone before. She even knew about….him. That had been a particularly emotional day. I just sat down and told her everything, talking through the tears and pain until I was reduced to sobs, and she lay there, petting my hair, shushing me and saying everything was going to be alright.

Luckily, today she seemed happy, her eyes bright and shining when I looked down at her, smiling.

"Can we color today?" she rasped quietly, still a bit drowsy from her nap. I nodded and smiled, taking her hand and leading the way to the coloring table. I didn't mind spending time with her in the least; actually I loved it. Angel was my best friend.

We sat down and started coloring a printed picture. It showed a girl picking flowers in her garden, the sun on her back. We sat in silence for a while, allowing me to think back as far as the pain was manageable.

"Bella, why are you always so sad?" Angel asked. My head snapped up and I came back to the present to find her looking up at me, frowning in concern.

"I'm not sad, Angel."

"Yes you are." She continued, coloring again, "I can tell, even when you try to be happy. What's making you so sad?"

I sighed. "Angel…." I began.

She looked up at me. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong. Sometimes I get sad and I don't know why." She went back to her picture.

My eyes blurred. "Thanks, Angel." My voice cracked, but I smiled gratefully at her for understanding. She hopped down from her seat, walked around the table, and threw her little arms around my neck. I wrapped my own arms around her, squeezing tight. We didn't need words to express our feelings.

****************

As the credits rolled for the Stuart Little movie we had just watched, I noticed that Angel had fallen asleep in my arms. I guess I'd gotten more into the movie than I thought I would. I stood, Angel in my arms, to turn off the TV and headed back to Angel's room.

I propped the door open with my free hand, maneuvering a wedge under it with my foot. My balance had noticeably increased over the years. Walking to the bed, I pulled back the covers and gently laid her on the bed, pausing when her eyes fluttered. They opened halfway and she slowly reached her arms out to me. I leaned in to crush her to my body, her tiny hot hands gripping my neck. When I tried to lean back out of the hug, she held fast, pulling herself to my ear with surprising strength.

She whispered, "Don't worry, Bella." I froze. "He's coming back for you."

Then she dropped lightly into the pillow, placed her hands under her head, and nodded off. I don't know how long I stood there, still bent over from the hug, her words echoing in my head. Eventually, I came to my senses, my mind still distant, unaware of the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Night, Angel." I whispered almost inaudibly, kissing her cheek. I turned off the lights, clicked her nightlight on, and kept the door open a few inches, just the way she liked it. Putting my keys in the ignition, I had no recollection of how I got out of the hospital and into my car. I was numb.

I pulled into the driveway of my condo and stepped out of the car, slamming the door. I jumped at the two quick beeps that sounded when the doors locked, and then turned to face the night. The cold, biting wind whipped my hair into my face as I briskly walked to the door, arms crossed over my front in a tight huddle.

Why I'd chosen to live here, of all places, was something I'd never be able to explain. After all, Long Beach really was a very cold city. Long Beach, New Jersey, that is. After he left, I stubbornly stayed in Forks, refusing vehemently when my father Charlie - threatened to send me back to Jacksonville with my mother Renee. However, by the end of senior year, it was only too obvious that waiting for something that would never happen wasn't healthy and the hurt had only gotten worse. I spent the following summer scouting out apartments and condominiums, keeping in a close but unattached range from Forks. Somehow, though I hadn't planned it that way, I ended up across the country from the town where my most cherished memories had taken place.

I shivered, closing the door behind me. Again, I couldn't quite recall how I'd gotten inside. Trying to gather my thoughts, I slowly made my way towards the bedroom, slightly disoriented. It was only after I hung up my blazer, placed my strap-on heels on the closet shelf, and shut the door that Angel's words really hit me.

I stumbled back to the bed, grateful that I was already in my room, because it seemed that I wouldn't be getting up for a while. My arms reached blindly for the bed posts but I didn't quite make it, falling with my arms outstretched. I didn't bother trying to get back up.

My breath came in quick, sharp gasps, chest heaving up and down. Tears blurred my vision as I curled into a fetal position there on the floor. It wasn't long before the sobs came, each one ripping through me like an earthquake. I clutched at my sides and squeezed my eyes shut in futile resistance against the onslaught of memories from a time that seemed so long ago. My entire body tensed, bracing for impact. Inevitable, the images started flashing through my mind one by one as my fists clenched and I gritted my teeth.

I gazed up into his amber eyes as we glided across the freshly polished gym floors. "Now, is this so bad, Bella?" he breathed.

My stomach lurched.

His cool, intoxicating breath washed over my face as he drew me closer.

I exhaled a sharp, jagged breath, already desperate for it to stop.

Fireworks exploded behind my eyes as our lips met in a kiss as passionate as the first.

I let out a broken cry of agony as this last scene appeared. The partially scabbed hole in my chest was ripped wide open once again, tearing a fault line in my midsection. I was shaking so violently that I wondered if there really was an earthquake.

The images came fast now, flickering by too quickly for me to comprehend. I pushed my hands against the sides of my head, gasping painfully, but intensely grateful to be free of the flashbacks, if only for a short time. As if time meant anything anymore. In these episodes, seconds and minutes were undistinguishable from hours, days even.

After getting my breathing back to normal, I propped myself up and shakily stood, tightly gripping the nightstand for balance. My hands trailed against the wall as I stumbled into the bathroom. Tripping to the sink, I grabbed the counter to keep myself upright. After splashing water over my face, I pulled open the medicine cabinet and reached for the bottles that held my sleep pills. Popping open the lid, I shook out some pills, not counting, and threw them down, swallowing hard.

As the medication started working, I leaned into the mirror and took a long, hard look. The girl in the reflection had long, stringy brown hair and tired, dull brown eyes that were red with tears; the bags under her eyes and the lines imprinted by sorrow made her look too many years and too many tears older than a twenty-three year old woman should. I stared into her eyes, trying to connect any part of myself to the person in the mirror somehow, anyhow, but I found nothing. She was empty.

I sighed and trudged back into my bedroom. After flicking the light switch off, I climbed into the covers and clicked on the lamp at my bedside.

Six years. Six years and still I was as weak as the first day. I hated that after all this time, just an idle thought reminding me of him could reduce me to tears. I hated that I couldn't just get over it and move on with my life. I hated that I still so obviously loved him, wanted him back with every molecule of my being, but mostly, I hated myself for being able to blame Angel for tonight. It was true that I hadn't gone a single night without crying for some length, but this night had been extremely unbearable, the worst that I'd had for such a long time. It hadn't been this bad in Forks, or not even the night I told Angel about him. And I couldn't help but wonder what in the world she had meant by what she said, but still, this was not her fault. My moods were completely unpredictable, so I savored the good ones because there were so few of them. At the best, I could look back and almost be grateful for all the time he had given me in the end. I didn't deserve the beautiful angel who had come down to meet me, so how could I hate him for leaving? I knew it was too good to last forever. I had always known that.

The tears started coming again, but I was calm this time. I lay, remembering, waiting for the drugs to fully kick in. As my eyelids drooped, I had one last thought as I drifted into a restless sleep.

Thank god for Nyquil.

Sooo... what did you think? I know you're thinking who is Angel and where is Edward?! I know, I know. Angel was just the brainchild of lots of caffeine and random brainstorming, but after I got the idea, I fell in love with her and I hope you will too. And as for Edward...well I'll just come right out and say it, he's in the next chapter.

Please, please, please review! It means so much to me as a writer. It makes my job easier, and your reading experience more pleasant, so please don't hesitate if you have something to say, whether good or bad.

Thanks for reading!

Anita.