I own nothing. SMeyer owns all things Twilight. I just borrowed her Edward as my Romantic Lead.

First attempt at writing a fic. It's an experiment more than anything. I don't claim to be a vocabulary or punctuation expert. So, if you're a stickler about that kind of stuff, this may not be for you.

The lovely DellaTerra kindly offered her Betaing services. She writes one of my favourite one-shots, Duck and Cover. You should check it out.

Trees. Five letters which lend description to a most wondrous invention of nature. Bringers of shade to the hot and weary. Sustenance to the hungry. Colour and beauty to those with eyes that see. A rippling ocean of green in the breeze, bristling like a peacock to show us they are staunch and proud. Resilient in the harshest of winters. Only baring their souls when the cold descends from the north. And what beautiful souls they are. Unmoved, untamed, unequaled.

A tree had been my salvation. Granting me access to a world of the purest joy. Cradling me within its branches, providing the anonymity I needed to gaze upon the one who unknowingly held my heart. And there was no doubt about it; my heart was firmly entrenched within her hands. 'Please be gentle,' the fragile child within me implored. 'For if you should let go without a thought, it would break into a million pieces, never to be whole again.' Did she know?

It was still early. She usually doesn't enter the music room until after dinner. She has such a predictable ritual that you can set you watch by it. My excitement was at an all-time high, having not seen her in almost three months. While I loved my grandparents, I didn't understand why I had to visit with them the entire summer. Immersed in their world at the expense of my teenage sanity. They're seventy and we have very little in common. Three months are not required to cover all topics for discussion. I can love them just as much from afar. Soon I will be heading off to college and slip the bonds of childhood. My time will be my own. First thing to go? Summers with the grandparents.

Eighteen had crept upon me while I was away. To the world, I was a man. Did it show? Was I different? Would she notice a change if she saw me? Would she see me? Did she know me? Please know who I am.

Seven o'clock came and went. Odd. Where was she? Had something changed while I was away? Glancing at my watch, I see that all is as it should be. I am here, it is now. Where is the beat of my heart? She may not know about these standing dates every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, but that does not detract from how momentous they are. We have kept them for more than three years. They are the highlight of my week, my month, my life. It's all I have of her. We are alone in these moments, together, drowning in the beauty of Crescendo, Adagio and Minuet. She plays. I watch. The perfect duet, harmonizing hearts and minds in our common adoration for music.

Seven-thirty passes by unseen, never to come on this day again.

Craning my neck for one last look, I make the decision to investigate. Lowering myself to the ground, I inch forward to the edge of the neatly manicured lawn that surrounds her home. All encased within the confines of a wall of trees. It's so peaceful. I always imagined it a metaphor. The quiet beauty and the untamed wild. My beautiful Bella inside and out. Frequently playing as though possessed by a wild spirit. Only to be still, once the remnants of the last note fade away. It seems fitting.

This has never happened before. Does she not feel the undeniable pull? My body is set for seven o'clock. Long before the hour, I can feel each beat as it draws near. Tick, tock. Tick, tock says my heart. She awaits you. The Conservatory calls to me, the tree bends to me, my love plays for me. Let me find her.

Dusk has come and gone unnoticed. Under the soothing blanket of gray, I move around the garden perimeter. There is no sign of her. The house is quiet and still. No one is home tonight. I glance at the driveway; her car isn't there. Something has changed. Did she have plans? Does she not know our evenings matter?

With a heavy heart I back my way into the tree line for the normally pleasant, post-Bella-bliss stroll through the forest, retreating to the place where I sleep. Less than half a mile separates us, yet it may as well be a thousand. Neighbours for over three years and never to have exchanged a word. One day that will change. I know it will. It must. She's all I've ever wanted. She is happiness.

I was fourteen the first time I heard the music. Such beauty captured my attention and held it with an iron grip. I dropped to the ground that day, laying back so that each chord could wash over me unhindered. Wave after wave of warmth and feeling clouding my mind and freeing my soul. I was home.

After being regaled so generously I had to know the source. That's the day I first saw her. I stopped breathing for a full minute, I 'm sure. From the edge of the clearing I saw the most beautiful creature on God's green earth, through the slightly grimy glass panes of a conservatory. She was sitting on a piano bench, staring into space as her fingers lovingly stroked the keys of a baby grand. Did time stand still? Perhaps it did; I was in no condition to know either way. She was loveliness personified. Long mahogany hair, sleek and shiny, leading down into soft curls that caressed her shoulders on their journey down her torso. Her face serene, with just the hint of a smile on her rose-tinted lips. She slowly closed her eyes, blocking out the world. "Hear me," I whispered, watching from my secret hiding place as she absorbed the silence.

She wore a pale buttermilk yellow sundress that looked at home against her peaches-and-cream skin. Her bare feet were just visible below the piano, hugging each other, crossed at the ankle. She was my age. She was perfection.

I fell in love at that very moment. My heart extended from my body and wrapped itself around her, claiming her for all eternity. 'I am with thee,' it said. 'There will be no other.'

Now I listlessly roam, back to the place I exist while I wait for the day my haven is realized. For surely, by her side, is where I'm meant to be?

My mother raises an eyebrow when I cross the threshold of our home, a full hour earlier than usual. "Well, this is a first. I wasn't expecting you back so soon." My arrival has garnered enough of her attention to warrant the putting down of the book she's reading, while sprawled generously? on the sofa. I unceremoniously flop down in an armchair and sigh. "Why are you home Edward?"

"My date fell through, so I thought I'd spend some quality time with my mom," I quip, even though my mood is low.

"Your date? What do you mean, 'your date?'" It's a reasonable enough question, I surmise. I've never told her what I do during these absences. The pilgrimage that occupies my evenings from March through October, barring my fun-filled summer purgatory.

"Well, not really a date...I usually go over by the edge of the Swan property and listen to their daughter play piano in the evenings. She's very talented. I can just close my eyes and stop thinking. It's heavenly." It's the truth and there is no shame in admitting this to my mother. "She's going to be famous one day, I'm sure." I feel a small thrill move through my body as I share this with with her. "Nobody knows I'm there. I just listen and leave," I say. She looks at me steadily for a moment then frowns. "I'm not hurting anyone, Mom. I haven't been seen. I just like to listen to Isabella play. Nothing more." Not the entire truth, but she needn't know everything.

"Edward, while you were on vacation there was an incident. Isabella and her parents died in a traffic accident returning from a family event. At least I think it was a family event. Quite the tragedy." She pauses as she loses her train of thought. After a moment of silence, she continues. "Anyway, the house has been closed up until the will has been finalized. So you should probably stay away from the property from now on, just in case. Having a young man skulking around the place now that it's unoccupied could draw unwanted attention." I froze. I couldn't have heard her right.

"Mom, c-can you… repeat t-that?" My stuttered words are barely audible as I have lost the ability to breathe.

"Honey, what's the matter? I wasn't aware you knew the Swans. You've never mentioned them before now." As tears began easing their way down my face on their journey into oblivion, she realized something was wrong. "Edward, talk to me. Did you know Isabella? What's going on?"

"Did I know her? Mom, she was…she was mine." Were my lips moving? "I was going to talk to her one day. My heart is gone. It's gone. She was to be the other half of my duet." Pity. Mothers aren't supposed to look upon their children with eyes such as those. She crossed the floor, stopping in front of me. Not a moment later she grasped my shoulders, pulling me up into her warm embrace. Giving what she could. Not knowing it would never be enough.

I sobbed for what would never be.

Wind, tear me from these branches. My salvation is gone. Let me blow away, lost forever among the minutiae of the forest. Just another casualty of the coming frost. I am no more.

~*~!~*~

Thanks for reading.