"I'll Look After You."
Before Bella goes to Jacob, Edward returns to check up on her.
And now that I'm strong I have figured out
How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul,
And I know I'll find deep inside me, I can be the one
-Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Guardian Angel
In a dark town, on a dark street, in a dark house, a beautiful boy watched over a sleeping girl. She was huddled against one edge of her small bed, as if on a different night, someone else may have lay beside her. Her face, partially obscured by strands of dark hair that had escaped from her loose knot, was beautiful, but her expression was startling; she appeared terrified, scared that something in her dream might harm her. The rest of her body was hidden beneath layers of blankets and quilts, twisted around her like a dozen tangled arms keeping her prisoner where she was. Her small frame was nearly completely obscured beneath the bedding, yet she still shivered as she slept.
Edward stood, literally motionless, in a corner of Bella's room, watching. The pain in his chest – the place where his heart should have been – was growing again. The sharp stabbing he'd felt immediately after, on his way to Brazil, had eventually dulled to a hard ache as he put distance between Bella and the danger: himself. But now the feeling returned as he watched her, her face pained and pale, her body shuddering against a nonexistent chill, and he knew it was he who had caused this, who had made her this way.
"Z-z-z-Edward?" Bella whispered.
"Yes?"
"I'm g-g-getting a little c-c-cold-d-d."
Edward chuckled as he pulled himself swiftly out from under Bella. She groaned and rolled onto her back, looking up at him standing beside her bed.
"I didn't mean for you to do THAT." She frowned. He smiled mischievously back.
"Fine then." And before she could protest, Edward had wrapped Bella snuggly in her down comforter, succeeding in completely immobilizing her. He grinned down at her, obviously pleased with his little joke.
"Funny." Bella scowled at him, but couldn't help but smile as Edward gathered her into his arms and pulled her onto his lap. Bella snuggled in against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and fell asleep dreaming of the boy in whose arms she slept.
Bella suddenly rolled over onto her back, throwing her covers violently to the side, exposing her body from the knees up. Her soft cotton shirt rode up around her ribs, and Edward watched for several minutes as her soft belly swelled and deflated with her breath. Seemingly of its own volition, his arm lifted and his hand reached out toward her as he imagined skimming his fingertips over her soft skin. He knew she'd wake up if he touched her, for even the lightest touch would be icy against her warm body. But how he wanted to touch her. Perhaps just once, then he could be out of the house and far away by the time Bella was awake enough to suspect. Edward shook his head. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't raise her hopes; he wouldn't make her think she was crazy.
Bella stood at the kitchen sink, her arms up to the elbows in bubbles. The soft noise of Charlie watching a baseball game in the next room filled her ears, and as she scrubbed the dinner dishes, Bella thought of Edward and the plans they had for the evening. It was game night at the Cullens', with a new rule: strategy games were out, to prevent cheating. Bella was looking forward to a night full of War and Twister, games she actually had a chance a winning, despite her humanness.
"Waaaaah!" Bella squealed suddenly, dropping a heavy pan into the sink and splashing soapy suds all over the countertops and her shirt. There had been a draft or... could it be? Fingertips? Something had skimmed over the back of her thighs, just under the cuffs of her shorts, ever so quickly.
"Bella? You alright?" Charlie called from the living room.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Bella sighed, fishing in the soapy water for the handle of the pot. She wasn't about to tell Charlie what she'd felt – or better yet, who she suspected had caused it.
Just as Bella's heart had slowed to a normal pace and she had assumed her scrubbing, she felt something – or someone – flip her ponytail, sending it swinging. But when she turned around, no one was there. A second later, there was a cold breath on the back of her neck, causing goosebumps to rise up on Bella's bare arms and legs. Alert, she glanced around the empty kitchen, then spied the open back door.
"Edward." She spoke evenly. "Please come in here."
The next time Bella looked up, Edward stood leaning against the frame of the back door, her favorite crooked smile on his face. She dried her hands and put one on her hip.
"You know, for being so old, you sure can be immature." She mused. He didn't answer, but instead crossed the room and, in one fluid motion, swept her into his arms and kissed her.
He didn't blink. He didn't move. He didn't breathe.
For nearly an hour, he became completely immobile, afraid that at the slightest movement, she – or he, or both of them – might disappear. He watched her sleep, turn, breathe. He tried to commit it all to memory so that later, when he was alone, back in South America and safely away from her again , he could replay it all and remember her even more clearly, if that was possible. He knew it would hurt, but it wasn't himself he was concerned about. As long as she was safe, he would survive.
So he watched. His eyes traced the contours of her body, the curvy outline of her profile, neck, breasts, stomach, hips, thighs, calves. The dent at the base of her throat; his favorite place to kiss her, beside her lips, where he could feel her pulse against his mouth. Her tiny hands that had once held his so tight, almost like she was afraid he might just fly away. He had assured her so many times that he wouldn't, but it had turned out that Bella was right; he had gone anyway.
"Edward?" Bella whispered in the dark.
"Yes, love?"
"I love you."
"I know."
It was quiet for a moment. Neither Edward nor Bella moved. Her damp hair was wetting his shirt as her head rested upon his chest, but he didn't care. He breathed in her scent, lavender and fresia and her vanilla shampoo; it was almost overpoweringly seductive. But Edward, as usual, resisted.
"You know." Bella said slowly.
"Yes. I do." There was another pause. Edward could almost hear Bella's mind overworking. He smiled into her hair. "Bella, you know I love you too, right?"
"Yes." Her voice sounded small. Edward sat up, pulling Bella upright with him. He turned her around so that she faced him, and looked her in the eyes, holding her shoulders.
"And it never bothers me to tell you that. I love you, I love you." He smiled and kissed her, returning to their original position, her face buried in his neck. It was silent for a long time.
"Edward?" She whispered after a while.
"Yes, Bella?"
"Sometimes I just like to make sure."
He just couldn't stay away.
He couldn't even stay across the room, for God's sake. He had to be close to her. He looked down at her from her bedside. If he could cry, he thought, he would be. She looked so beautiful just lying there, innocent and mindless of the memories that would hit her the minute she woke up. He had succeeded in removing himself from her life completely; he left with his family, he had taken the things he had given her, he had tried to make her hate him. But he couldn't erase himself from her memories.
"Edward."
She spoke his name so clearly, with such conviction, he was sure she had seen him, caught him checking up on her. But then he realized she was only talking in her sleep, just the same as she had before, when he lay beside her every night. It saddened him to see that things hadn't changed.
"Bella." He whispered back, barely loud enough for Bella to hear, even if she had been awake. So many times and places flooded through his mind: Bella falling asleep in his arms, Bella laughing at a joke, Bella cooking dinner for Charlie. There was Bella in school, doing her homework, Bella kissing him softly, Bella telling him she loved him.
He couldn't stay away; this much he knew. It was selfish and it was awful, but Edward simply could not make himself be apart from Bella.
He could come back. He could return to Bella, beg for her forgiveness, and he knew that they'd continue where they'd left off. Bella would grow old by his side, or she'd become one of them, it didn't matter, so long as they were together. Edward reached out his hand, letting his icy palm fall gently across Bella's forehead, brushing back the hair from her eyes.
Bella shifted, bringing him back to reality. Suddenly he was outside the little house, shaking his head to clear it. No, he could not go back. It was too dangerous for Bella. He had put her in enough danger just coming here tonight. He could never do that again. He had to leave her alone.
Edward stood motionless in the dark yard. He would stay away from Bella, he resolved. He would let her live her life. He would wait it out, and when she went, he would follow after as quickly as possible, and then they could be together in a place where these dangers wouldn't follow them.
It would be difficult, and it would hurt. But it was doable. Edward's only consolation, however small, was that Bella was safe now, as she would have been had he never existed: the way things should have been.
Just as he turned to leave, to run away and never come back, Edward saw something move in Bella's window, and then she appeared there, like angel looking down at him. He moved quietly behind a tree, knowing she couldn't see him in the dark but wanting to be safe. He waited, like Romeo for his Juilet, for her to speak, move, anything, but he hoped she wouldn't cry. He didn't think he could bear it.
"I miss you." She whispered after a minute, knowing he could hear her.
"I'll be back." He answered, already knowing it was true.