A/N: The following is a continuation from where Stephanie Meyer left off in her leaked copy of Midnight Sun. If you haven't read it, head to her website, otherwise all this below won't make a shred of sense!

Disclaimer: I own nothing and mean no disrespect to Stephanie Meyer and her work. This is just a Twihard wanting more so much, she wrote more.

I seriously considered circling the suburbs for an hour or so. I didn't want to waste precious time away from her. The second she was asleep I wanted to be there. But I declined my own offer and drove home, edging the Volvo to its limit of 120 miles per hour.

I grimaced and wished for my Mercedes. As I pulled into the garage, there were Rosalie's legs stuck out from under her M3, Emmett by her side holding the car up. He had his chin in his free hand, looking bored, but glanced up as I leapt out of my car and was about to dash off.

Hey, wait up.

I paused, irritated. Bella would definitely be asleep by now.

"What?" I grumbled. The rhythm of the spanner paused for a second before continuing. I stared impatiently at Emmett, waiting for him to say or think something relevant. He looked pained for a moment as his gaze flickered to Rosalie's half-hidden form.

What's she thinking, Ed? I'm getting the silent treatment here; it's driving me crazy!

I sighed, my body twitching with the yearning to see Bella. I supposed I owed him this much, what with the despicable way I'd been treating my family recently. I listened.

Run along, Edward. Back to fragile, breakable human Bella. Run back to your little bitch like the dog you are.

It was like Bella's first day in Biology again, except I had a very different desire for blood. It took every once of my self control not to rip Rosalie's legs out from under the car. Not just rip them out, but off.

My entire being screamed for punishment for her insult, her ignorance. With a huge effort, I remained still and gave a stiff nod to Emmett, my jaw set. His face fell at my expression, and seemed to understand.

Guess you'll tell me later then. Have-

I didn't hear the end of Emmett's thought; I spun on my heel and took off into the night.

I plunged through the woods, fury filling my veins, pushing myself faster to stop myself turning back and attacking my sister. How stupid she was! Did her jealousy blind her from the truth? I couldn't even think the word she had applied to Bella lest I would turn around.

All I knew was that it was the polar opposite of what the girl embodied, and the fact that so many people viewed her that way. It was Mike Newton, Tyler, Jessica's thoughts magnified. This blind, spiteful image of her…why did it anger me so? I slowed my sprint a fraction. Was it because I felt the crushing need to protect her from these creatures' minds? Or was it simpler than that…

It was untrue.

Truth, a value instilled deep in me from Carlisle, sang defiantly against the venomous thoughts of Rosalie. Bella was not that. And myself…

"A dog," I spat as I jumped with unnecessary force over a log, landing two hundred yards ahead. I was not at Bella's beck and call by her choice. If it was up to her, she would have more time to herself, to have her own shadow.

This was obvious from her reaction to my watching her sleep, and listening in on the thoughts of her company. My anger quelled as I pondered this. Did it really bother Bella that I was around this much?

Of course it did, I realized, a new anger slowing me this time. She must feel suffocated by my very presence. When did I leave her alone? I wondered. Whenever she visited the bathroom...I couldn't count school as privacy for her; I always watched her through others' minds. In the early morning between waking up and seeing her in the driveway, and in the evening when she ate with Charlie. And I was going to see her now.

I slowed to an Olympic sprinter's pace. With a sickening feeling, I considered Rosalie to be right. I was a dog – a guard dog, protecting a fragile female as if she were my mate. Surely that wasn't so terrible; surely I wasn't ready to jump at the tinkle of a bell. The bell that was her in danger, which seemed to ring too often.

Yes, I was.

I had no choice. She was too good, too delicate to not have protection, and I was the closest thing there was. Not to mention the fact I needed her, too. My existence had no meaning without her.

I approached the edge of the woods without slowing and scaled the Swan house in one leap. Stalking along the tiled roof, I shot a glance into Bella's window. She slept fitfully, as usual.

I breathed a sigh of relief, shimmied through the window and took my usual seat in the rocking chair. Her restlessness seemed to have a different air to it tonight.

Her legs twisted in the sheets occasionally; one of her hands was curled on her chest, the other by her head. Her breathing was sporadic, with the occasional gasp. It didn't seem like a nightmare, yet it wasn't a normal dream either.

"Oh…Edward…"

I froze.

I had never, ever heard her voice anything like that before; it commanded strange reactions from my body. I suddenly got a very good idea what her dream was about. To stop my reckless imagination before it went too far, I focused on her appearance rather than the sounds she made, the names she moaned…

Focus.

Her wet hair was curled around her neck in tendrils, chocolate against ivory white. How bright her skin was tonight! I rose from the chair to inspect her closer. She was positively glowing, a touch of pink seeping into the silky cream of her skin.

Her back suddenly arched, a torturing, beautiful moan escaping her lips. Her legs twisted further in the sheets, highlighting their shape. My right hand twinged, again without pain from her touch this afternoon.

On a mad impulse, I reached out to touch her cheek once more. I tried to placate my conscience - I was in control, I'd done it before, I would be as gentle as –

Bella's eyes fluttered open.

I sprang out the window in the time it took for her eyelids to peel back, my breath coming silent and fast.

She'd never woken with me there before. Crouched beneath the sill, I listened furiously for the acceleration of her heart, the call of my name, the pad of her feet to the window. Nothing, but the steady rhythms of sleep.

I chanced a look through the window, and saw she had fallen asleep just as quickly as she had awakened. I couldn't go back in now, not with the risk of a repeat of what had just happened. Granted, I could easily avoid her sight, but then I couldn't watch her properly; I would just be looking for signs of her waking up, which was pointless.

I frowned. Did this mean I could never return? I didn't indulge the thought of being away from her more. The times I left her alone were excruciating enough. I groaned silently at another problem: not having this time to desensitize to her scent.

Spending eight hours a night in her perfume-concentrated room, and with she herself, had helped more than I liked to admit. I leapt from the roof to land on grass, wishing (but at the same time hoping not) Bella would sleep more soundly.

The next morning I timed my arrival to Charlie's departure. The moment his cruiser rounded the corner I was on the street. Again I tried to read his mind clearly, and again all I got were vague objectives and emotions. Something about Bella, and movement in a large space…a sport, perhaps? I couldn't imagine Bella wanting to participate in any sort of physical activity. Well, perhaps one certain kind…

Stop it.

I was surprised by how easily my mind drifted to those thoughts now. Something to do with the fact Bella was most likely having dreams of a similar timbre last night, and that they were of me.

I pulled into her driveway and was about to greet her at the door, but stopped. I wondered if she remembered her dreams. I wondered if they had affected her this morning, if she had dressed differently, if her inflections were off, or the blush on her cheeks would be more prominent.

I sat and pretended not to watch as she forgot to deadlock her house and meandered to my car. Nothing seemed different. It wasn't really bothering me like the multitude of other things about her, but I was curious.

"Good morning," I said as she slid into the passenger seat. I examined her face more closely, searching for the alabaster gleam of last night.

It was gone, her skin almost darker, normal. There were light shadows under her eyes; they reminded me of my shadows I'd seen in the mirror this morning. I needed to hunt soon.

"How are you today?"

"Good, thank you," she replied, and it sounded true. Whether this was because of the dreams or because I dared to believe she was happy in my company, I couldn't tell.

"You look tired," I commented.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, flipping her hair between us. So she did remember.

I would have burned for any number of centuries just to see inside her mind right now.

"Neither could I," I grinned, indulging in the memory of her saying my name. I turned the key in the ignition and backed out as she laughed at this, blissfully misunderstanding, the sound more beautiful than any music I could compose, than anyone, ever, had composed.

"I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did," she said.

"Oh…Edward…"

"I'd wager you did," I replied, struggling to block the smirk rising on my face. I would have to tell her about this sometime.

"So what did you do last night?" Bella inquired.

Watched you toss your head and arch your back, watched your beautiful skin glow in the moonlight as you dreamed of me…I couldn't stop the laugh coming through.

"Not a chance," I said. I suddenly remembered my list, and the chance I had to expand it immensely, now that I could receive information from the source instead of second-hand observation. I'd been distracted so much by her dreaming that I'd forgotten. My words flowed easily into the same sentence. "It's my turn to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?"

Everything.

"What's your favorite colour?" My voice came out too intense.

Keep it light! The sudden opportunity to find out more about her was maddening. Of all reactions, she adopted one of mine, and rolled her eyes. Frustrating. Fascinating.

"It changes from day to day," she replied.

"What's your favorite color today?" I pressed.

She thought for a minute and looked down at her clothes. She wore blue jeans and a dirt-colored sweater that was almost as bad as the shapeless monstrosity a few weeks ago. I would have to unleash Alice on her if she didn't pick up some dress sense soon.

"Probably brown," shrugged Bella.

She liked the hideous shade she wore? Alice had her work cut out for her.

"Brown?" I asked to confirm in disbelief.

"Sure. Brown is warm," she said defensively, before her tone softened a fraction. "I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown – trees, rocks, dirt – is all covered up with squashy green stuff here."

I defeated the purpose of my plan by not paying much attention to her answer. As she complained about Forks' colour palette, I noticed the longing smoldering in her dark brown eyes. I found myself lost in the depths of her eyes again, in their slow-burning flame, until I felt I would be consumed.

I found the color of her liking in her hair too, the rich gloss throwing a hundred shades of brown into her locks, shimmering and changing in the dull light. I hadn't noticed how often her hair actually moved. It had a life of its own.

Little tendrils curled protectively around her neck, her fringe slipped into her eyes to tease her, and all the while the whole mass tossed with her moods. I began to understand why she used it as a shield. It was like a cold fire, a separate being, flickering in tune with her.

"You're right," I said. "Brown is warm."

I knew that warmth extended beyond her hair and eyes; she filled the car with it, and I wanted it. No mistakes, said the routine voice in my head, but this time I reasoned with it. I hadn't had a chance last night. I was due for another touch.

I reached out with this in mind, the voice still disapproving, and brushed a chunk of her hair back behind her shoulder. The heat from her neck trickled into the air, filling the cramped space with her wretchedly wonderful scent. I inhaled through my nose, welcoming it, deeming it punishment for disobeying myself.

Feel the burn, I thought dryly.

Through the burn in my throat, I registered we had arrived at school. I took parking as an excuse to tear my eyes away from her for a moment, but it didn't take long. I was drawn back to her, like a moth to the flame. My question time was rapidly drawing to a close.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" I asked.

She paused for a moment, then named the band I had played as loud distraction music from her scent that day in the office. It was polar opposite to her character. Her instincts were backwards, she could smell blood, and she listened to death metal.

I grinned at the absurdity of it. It couldn't be true; she must have mixed the names up. I reached into the crowded compartment and retrieved the same CD.

"Debussy to this?"

Bella took the CD, me careful not to let our fingers touch, and stared down at it fondly. I thought back to the chains on her truck's tyres…what sentiments did she attach to these objects? That and thousands more questions churned in my mind. As I opened her door for her, I could barely wait to catch her between classes. To explore. To know. To love even more.

A/N: Phew, giant chapter. I'm no review whore, but reviews would actually be really appreciated this time; I hope I got Edward's character right. Cheers big ears!