This is just New Moon from both Edward and Bella's POV. This chapter is Edward's. His POV.

"Edward?" Alice's voice is carefully chipper as she addresses me. She's sprawled on the floor in their house in Ithaca - there's really no point in calling it our house because it's not mine, not really. I've spent maybe four days in it, maximum, since It happened.

Esme had the radio turned on to the local Christmas station. It was playing a jazzy rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside", and, as one could imagine, this wasn't helping too much with my Christmas spirit.

It wasn't my idea in the first place to come home for Christmas. I would have preferred to spend it alone, wallowing in some house and trying desperately to keep my ever-weakening resolve firm. But Esme had begged and begged, and finally I had agreed, knowing how much it would hurt her if I refused to come home for Christmas.

I couldn't really see a point. Christmas morning in our house was not the usual. There were presents stacked under a tree, of course - a massive one that brushed against the always-high ceilings, that Alice, Rosalie and Esme usually spent a whole afternoon draping in old-school tinsel and delicate balls - but the presents usually numbered more than the average. A lot more.

There wasn't really a point to the gift-giving either, at least not trying to keep it a surprise. Though everyone tried to hide it from me, to think of other things while I was around, they usually slipped up, ruining the surprise; this had inspired more than one trip at midnight Christmas Eve to get my present - and Alice would see what we were getting, of course, if not us actually buying the gift, she would see herself unwrapping it.

Usually, Alice, with a certain amount of begging and bribing, could be convinced to tell Jasper what he was getting as well; on the rare times when she refused, Jasper had a habit that worked annoyingly well: he would guess again and again, and when he finally stumbled upon the answer, he could, of course, tell that we were lying when we denied it.

Everybody else would bargain with both me and Alice on what they were getting; the bribes often rose ridiculously high. Usually, though, I wouldn't tell anybody. Alice was less firm. So, in the end, virtually no one's present was a surprise and it became a game as to who could feign the most surprise when we were unwrapping.

All of these antics usually invoked, as one could imagine, a fair amount of laughter and happiness, two things I had not felt in three months and never expected to feel again. This was partly one of the reasons I didn't want to come home for Christmas; wouldn't seeing all the joy and exultation only make the pain I felt more keen, as I saw what I was missing, what I could have again if I only ran for a few hours west?

The other reason was much more subtle but also much more important: the romance. I could not stand seeing anyone else together, not Alice and Jasper, nor Carlisle and Esme, and especially not Rosalie and Emmett. When I came to visit, everyone usually tried to act less in love - they rarely held hands or even touched at all while I was around, and while I appreciated the thought it didn't really help. This was because it wasn't really the actions so much as the feeling - an almost physical electrical current that ran through the air whenever any of the couples looked at each other. I didn't need to be Jasper to feel the love pouring out of their eyes, and that made me grow more melancholy than ever.

Like now, for example. Jasper was seated cross-legged next to Alice and he was just looking at her. His thoughts were of nothing but her. They weren't even touching, and still it made my heart ache more than it would have if they had been making out madly on the floor in front of me. Esme, Carlisle, Rosalie and Emmett were no better.

And I was sitting alone. Of course.

Sigh.

I could not be sitting alone, of course. Stop it! my mind screamed at me as my thoughts ran away from me, set on their course to make this Christmas the most painful one anyone anywhere had ever experienced. My fantasies continued on their own accord, out of control.

I could be 3,000 miles away right now, staring hungrily in the window as she and Charlie unwrapped their presents, probably laughing and smiling and having fun. I could just see her, sweats and T-shirt falling gracefully around her slim frame, hair tangled from sleep, eyes bright and excited.

I didn't even have to just watch. I could be - could have been, I told myself firmly, but my mind ignored me - part of it, watching her face as she unwrapped my gift to her, probably some inconsequential token that she would love, and then I would smile and hug her, maybe even give her a quick kiss on the cheek if Charlie was in a particularly amiable mood.

"Edward?" Alice's voice is still bright, but the annoyance is cracking through. I jerk myself out of my thoughts, my fantasies, and look back at her.

"Do you want to open the first present?"

Forcibly keeping my mind away from that other scene so far away, I nod mutely and she hands me one. It's wrapped in blue paper, exactly - I swallow, fighting off the sudden pain in my chest - exactly the same color as her prom dress. Jasper glances up sharply and gives me a curious stare. I had been doing all right - sad, of course, but in control of my own emotions - but now the agony is suddenly so acute that Jasper begins to cushion it for me, partly automatic, but mostly intentional.

"Thank you," I murmur to him, and unwrap the present.

It's a flower. A red and white flower. I'm surprised, because I haven't seen this in anyone's mind. I'm not sure what kind of flower it is - in all the books I've read, I've never been too awfully interested in botany - but it looks like it was originally all white, then dipped in red dye. Or blood.

I look up curiously, not sure what the significance of this is, but my family's stares are all just as blank as mine. Except for one.

Well, I thought it was a good representation of Bella. It's pretty. The colors are even right - flesh and blood, red and white. And they'll both die.

My head snaps up, my eyes lock in on Rosalie's smug smile, and before I can even think, I'm launching myself across the room.

Emmett reacts faster than anyone else, and he's suddenly in front of me. I collide with him, and we both fall to the floor. He's holding my arms behind my back, and I try to wrestle free. It's futile, of course.

"Rosalie!" Alice is appalled. "How could you do that? How could you possibly think that would help him?"

Though the anger still roars through me, incensed, my thoughts catch up to my body and the pain takes my breath away. I relax against Emmett, stop struggling. It takes all my energy to remain standing.

I tell myself this is stupid. I know that she will die, I know that she's beautiful. And I know all too well the crimson color of her blood, the ghastly pale color of her face when the blood is absent from there. So why does this reminder hurt me so much?

Rosalie looked a little crestfallen, like maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. Wow, Rosalie. Good guess.

"I just thought….I just thought it would help him move on," Rosalie admits, looking at the floor.

"What happened?" Emmett demands, still restraining me, though it's no longer necessary. I'm in too much pain to do anything, attack anyone. Or answer his question.

"The flower is supposed to represent Bella," Alice says quickly through her teeth. She's glaring at Rosalie. "The red and white signifies her flesh and blood, the beauty overall, and…it's also about how they'll both die."

Now it's not only Alice who looks appalled. Even Emmett lets go of me and turns to glare at Rosalie, for once in his life mad at her.

"What exactly were you thinking?" he demands, eyes flashing. "We're trying to help him heal, Rose, not give him reminders of her mortality! Not remind him of her at all! This is a really tough time for him, you know that. I can't believe anyone has to tell you! Why can't you just realize that he loves her, that he's not going to get over her any time soon?" He pauses for a moment, then turns to me. "I'm sorry, Edward," he says quietly.

There's utter silence, and suddenly it's just too much for me. I have to get away from all this pity, all this misery, all this pain. Of course, I know there is no escape, no sanctuary except for the one place that I cannot go. I have to get away from all the benevolent glances from my family, Esme's eyes wide with the yearn to comfort me, Carlisle's whole body screaming compassion, Jasper's face as he desperately tries to help me shoulder the pain. I have to get away.

Up the stairs to my room, much like the one I had in Forks - even thinking the name of the town is enough to make me wince. Collapsing on the couch where we sat together, staring at the window, looking at the CD player that she listened to, that she touched. Eyeing the music she had once stood in front of, questioning.

Her face is in the forefront of my mind, her scent in my nose. It's so real that the pain in my chest is nearly equal to the pain of my transformation, the only human memory I have left. How can I bear this any more?

But I have to. I have to. It is not a choice to fail, not an option. Again, I think of the scene that must be taking place in her house now, how happy she must be without me. There is a reason I'm going through this. A reason I'm being without her.

It scares me to think of how short a time it's really been since I left - the three month anniversary had just passed. How little time had passed, how much more had to pass before I would be allowed to escape from this hell.

I stand again and go to look out the window. There's not any snow outside, but the sky is gray. I can't see the sun, but I know where it is overhead. I stare at it, trying desperately to imagine that this is the same sun that she is looking at, so far away. That maybe we are still connected, after all.

I hope desperately that she is having fun, that she's taking care of herself. That she's all right, anything better than this horrible, awful day.

"Merry Christmas, Bella," I whisper, before sinking to the floor once again and burying my face in my hands.

So…review! Review! Review! While reading though it, I thought that maybe Rosalie might have been a little out of character, but maybe not.

Anyway, next chapter is Bella.