Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters, all rights belong to Stephanie Meyer.

Well, a little one-shot I decided to take on for tonight, it's bitter, and quite sad, so I don't recommend it to anyone looking for a "bright and cheery" read. Review if you wish, this is more for my own benefit then reviews. Writing can really relieve the pressures of everyday life can't it?

How Silently

Back Story: 80 years it's been since Edward left Bella, 80 long years of pain and healing. Bella lived through Edward's abandonment, and managed to piece together a life for herself, all human. It would be a lie to say she forgot about him, but it would also be a lie to say that she didn't find happiness. And now, old and dying, Bella is about to meet the one person she vowed never to forget.

The night wind is gentle as it shakes through the pine trees, their rustling is a comfort to the old widow lying ever so still on the bed. Her ancient face is lined with crags and pits, but it seems serene, even happy. The heartbeat moniter next to her shows a faint and bright red line, rising and falling evenly; for now.

The widow's room is full of memory, the happy times, and the sorrowful times. Photographs clog every bit of space, showing this and that member of the widow's large family. And she is in a few as well, young and smiling, ever proud. Some perfume bottles line the old cherry-wood vanity, the widow was always searching for a particular scent, all her life, but had never seemed to find it. The elegant bottles sit quietly, holding their contents still and solomn. A rap-tap-tapping at the window announces a storm front on the horizon, full of gusto and anger, not that the Widow minds it. This galant woman has come to love storms, even cherish them. They, she and the storms, share a kinship after all.

The Widow sighs, it is a sad, but content sound, full of unspoken wisdom. The heart moniter shows a slight decrease in her heart's rhythm, she only chuckles at it. For too long now this old woman has been alone, she welcomes death with open arms and a bright smile. At 98, her body was useless to her still fertile mind. It was time to leave this earth, and join those whom she loved elsewhere. The Widow contemplates calling her children, but decides against it. Peace is better.

She daydreams idly while the storm gathers, visiting times past. Waiting, just waiting until she could fall into that never-ending sleep. And she might have, just then, if not for the sudden creak and splinter of wood. It's such a harsh sound, and the Widow frowns at it, if burglers are in her house, let them take what they want. She doesn't care.

The sound grows louder and suddenly the door to her room opens, the widow feigns sleep, she is quite the actress. Whoever the intruder was, he (if it was a he) was silent, save for a sudden hitch in his breathing. The floorboards creak and groan under his weight, the wood being rotted and weak. The stanger's anger at this is practically tangible, he wants silence, but silence is denied him.

The widow's trick is working, for the the stranger, whomever he was, knelt beside her bed. His tall and lean frame is shaking, as though he were crying. And for a moment, the widow wonders if one of her sons has snuck in. It's enough to make her break the sleeping façade.

"Edward? Whatever are you doing here darling? It's so late…" Her voice is fragile, but carries with it an inner depth and beauty not commonly heard. It also rings with amusment, even if she wishes her son would have stayed home….

The stanger gasps, and falls backward, taken by surprise. His muscled body hits the floor with a dull thud. And his eyes pop open with astonishment. The widow chuckles.

"I may be an old crone but I know my son when I see him. Stop sneaking about now, or you'll wind up hurting yourself." More amusment from the widow, she's having fun with this.

"Son?" The stranger's voice is honey and velvet in the silky darkness. This is not the Widow's son. And the spike of red in her heart rate moniter shows it. Memory clashes with memory,the widow knows this man, but yet tries not to remember him.

Her voice becomes shaky and uncertain, and she is no longer a widow, but an 18 year old girl, one who had the love of her life in her arms. The widow becomes Isabella Marie Swan.

"You, turn on a light now. There's nothing to fear from an old lady. Show yourself." strength riddles her voice, but underneath is a terrible fear.

The stranger sighs, gathers himself, and neatly flicks on the bedside lamp. Its light is soft and somber, throwing just the right amount of shadow. The Widow stiffens in alarm, but relaxs almost a second later, she could be dreaming, but he is too real to be a dream. Kneeling beside her quilt-laden bed, is Edward Cullen. The first and deepest of her loves.

The first thing Bella realizes is his youth. Still perfect and golden, Edward hasn't changed in 98 years. His hair still shines with bronze and his eyes are still amber-soft, no age marks can be found. The second thing she finds, is the agony in his eyes. Bella has seen suffering, and suffered most of her life, but the pain in his eyes is beyond description. It borders on maddness.

Bella clears her throat loudly, almost rudely, but manages to speak. "I should have known something like this would happen. So much for wisdom coming with age."

Edward lowers his head and speaks softly. "You remember me." A statement, not a question.

Bella smirks at him as best she can, her aged face taking back a few years in its in happiness. "Of course I do, Mr. Cullen. You're the man who stole my heart and ran off with it. Do you know how long it took me to get it back?"

Edward's pain increases. "I have no idea of the agony I've caused you. I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry…."

The ancient Bella cuts him off gruffly. "Now look here Edward, there's no need for apologies. I loved you, I lost you, I suffered, I healed. Time has put away all of my anger. It should have done the same for you."

His smile towards her is slightly manical. "I never harbored any anger, except towards myself. Especially now, as I see what what I've lost."

Bella quirks an eyebrow at him, she is calming down. "Lost? You never wanted me, you left, I don't blame you for that, as a human, I was a miserable companion for you."

Edward rears his head back and gouges three inch grooves into the floorboards, he is suffering acutely. "Oh but I did! Bella I loved you so I left! I left because I loved you, you were better off without me, without my family…but I never stopped wanting you by me. Never. In all the 80 years I've hated myself every day for my choice, if I could die, I would have."

Bella smiles sadly at her once-lover, if she were younger, she would have denied his love, but now, she has no time left to doubt. "I see. Ah Edward, the fates have spun for us a rather wicked web. I just wish you could have found a way to let me go. 80 years is too long to hate yourself. And I forgave you long ago, just as I never stopped loving you." She laughs out loud, a wonderful sound, "The heart never forgets its first love, never. You'll always hold me with you, you always have."

He sobs, but no tears come, it's a soft but piercing sound. Bella can feel his pain and heartsickness seep into her. She reaches out a withered hand to grasp his, hot flesh meets cold, and Edward gently squeezes her hand back. "What do I do now, Bella? You've lived without me, you're dying…"

"I'm 98 years old, it's high time I died. I'm sick of dealing with this old bonecage of mine, I can't play with my grandchildren, and I can't tend my rosebushes, I can't even read clearly anymore. It's terrible being old, you're lucky you don't have to go through this."

Edward shakes his head slowly, "No, I would give anything for this, the chance to grow old with you. The chance to be human, and die when I feel so tired of living." His voice grows heated and angry, "But no, I'm stuck in this rock of a body, never changing, never tiring, never letting go. I wish I could play Dracula and simply turn to dust with the rising of the sun."

Laughter fills the air, and Bella is once again happy, despite Edward's sorrow. "Dracula? Hahaha! I should have known. Oh Edward, don't wish so freverently for death, it's no pleasant company. Live, and learn. That's all this old lady can offer you."

Edward manages to grin back, his heavy heart grows lighter. "You're certainly no old lady Bella, you're an angel in my eyes, always have been, always will be."

The heart moniter spikes once more, causing Bella to frown. "You still know just how to get my heart going don't you? This old body has some kick left in it after all." She lifts her head to the sky and mumers softly, "I told you so Henry."

Edward picks his head up and growls softly. "Who might Henry be?"

His dark glance is met by a gently chiding one. "My husband. He died two years ago saying that I'd follow soon, he always did joke about my weak body. Lord knows how much grief I gave him about it."

A deep sigh issues from Edward. He is hating himself, and this unknown man, even 80 years later Edward's jealously is strong. "You were married."

Another round of chuckles from Bella, but the moniter beeps once, telling her time is closing in. "Yes, I was a Mrs. for over 40 years. Henry was the one to heal me up again, he tried to get me to date him for over a year before I gave in. and then five years after that, the picture over there was taken." She points her long finger towards a silver framed photograph sitting near her bedside. Edward hustles over to it quietly, awed by the sight of his beloved in the elegant white wedding dress. In this photo, Bella is smiling and youthful as ever, her eyes are a deep chocolate brown that seem full of secrets. And her lips are a perfect rosey red, with alabaster skin to set off her dark wavy hair. The dress is simple and severe in its beauty, as are the flowers she holds. White orchids and blue forget-me-nots. But a harsh growl comes from Edward when he sees the young gentleman at her side, tall and lean with deep golden hair and evergreen eyes. He is smiling at his new bride, and seems alive with love. It sickens Edward to look at it.

"What was his last name?" He inquires as politely as he can.

But Bella sees through his mask, and smiles. "Staven. Henry Staven. He's not from Forks, so you wouldn't know him. We met in Peru, during an archeological dig in the Andes."

Edward is taken aback, "You became an archeologist? I would have thought something else…"

Bella's voice is primly when it comes out, she speaks of her job with superiority. "Yes, I worked for a museum for 60 years, traveling as often as I could. I wanted to see the world, and so I did! My team worked through hundreds of ruins, and even managed to unravel our fair share of mysteries. It was a wonderful time…but what were you up to all of these years?"

The two spoke like this, back and forth, for a number of hours.

……………………………….................................................................

It is deep into the night, and the two are looking at one another with a great deal of mixed feelings. Edward is filled with regret and anguish, while Bella struggles to balance out her love of her late husband, and that of the man beside her. Much has been revealed this night, like Edward's study of Dali and Alice's tour of Rome. Of Rosalie's cheating on Emmett, only to beg to have him back. Of Emmett's pranks, and Esme's love, and of Carlisle's compassion. But perhaps the deepest subject has been Bella's children.

Three, two sons and a daughter had been born to Bella and Henry. Their names had Cullen roots though, and it made Edward happy beyond reason to have one of Bella's sons named after him. Edward Anthony Staven, William Jasper Staven, and Serene Alicia Staven. They had been the joy of Bella's life, and had her daughter had even followed in her footsteps, and was now a wonderful paleontologist. Edward Staven had become doctor, while William had chosen to be a painter. All were married and had children of their own. It left a cold pit in his stomach. But Edward was happy for Bella's progress through life. And Bella, for one, couldn't take her aged eyes off of him.

They spoke about the bad times and the happy times, times of plenty, and times of few. And about the days where they longed for each other. The discussion proved to be taxing on Bella's frail heart, which struggled to keep pace, until it started to falter.

"Oh!" Bella gasped suddenly, not in pain, but in surprise. Edward hastened to phone the hospital, but Bella waved him off. The moniter beeped incessantly for a long while, but her heart picked back up for a time.

"Let me be, Edward. It's time for me to go. " she said with all the weight of the ages.

Edward was sitting by her side, rubbing her hands in an effort to warn them, through friction. Her stroked her soft gray hair with his other hand, and bit back the urg to kiss her. Even now, in death, Bella was a goddess to him.

"What will I do now? You're my only tie to this Earth, I love only you, I want only you." His voice was small and scared.

Bella drew a rough breath, fighting for strength, and spoke, " You'll always have me, I've always loved you, and that will never change. I'll be there in the wind, and in the ocean's waves. Just look for me, and you'll have me."

"Don't go, Bella don't leave me. Not like this, not when we could have had a life together." He would cry if he could….

She shushes him, and strokes his perfect cheeks, tears springing to her eyes. "I wish I could turn back the clock, but time works against me. And I must go, I will go, very soon, my dear. I'll be waiting for you."

Edward's shoulders shake with years of grief, and the moniter beeps once more, signaling the end.

Bella's face grows irritated. "Would you mind turning that off? I don't need to be told when I'm going to kick the bucket, thank you very much." The beeping stops once the plug is pulled.

Bella sinks back into her bed, warm and content. There is just more thing to address before she goes to sleep. "Edward?" she asks, her voice fluttering, "could you help me with one last thing?"

Edward's eyes are deep and deadly still. "Anything" he vows.

She relaxs, utterly at peace. "My granddaughter, Athelia, is 17 and has yet to inspire a boy's love. All I ask of you is that help her with that task, in any way you can. She's my spitting image, so who knows, you may get a life with me after all….."

He nods yes, agreeing with all his heart to help his beloved's granddaughter, even though he will only ever love Bella. He sighs and brushes a stray hair off of her cheek, tucking it behind her ear and laying his head on her chest, listening to her heart stutter and halt.

The winds knocks against the window and brushes the air with the smell of rain and new life. It is dark, ever so dark, but to Bella, the night is full of light. She disappears into the darkness with the passion of Edward's last kiss on her lips, which in the night become young once more, and she is free, and she is happy.

In the bedroom outside of the glorious night, Edward weeps with silent and grave sobs. He stays with Bella until the sun awakens and the first call of her son, Edward, breaks the morning silence.