A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews and favorites so far! More reviews and more favorites equals a drive to work harder, and I appreciate the extra push. ;)

Anywho, I'm very glad that at least some people are interested, so I thought I'd publish the second chapter a little early. I honestly don't know how long this story will be, but I can tell you that it won't be obscenely long, while at the same time it won't be inadequately brief.

I'd like to take this time to thank my beta, the lovely and kind EdwardsMate4ever, for her vital help with grammar and flow. I'd also like to thank the beautiful and intelligent Cordelia Darcy, for introducing me to the wonderful world of fan fiction.

Read, favorite, review, and enjoy!

- MoMP

Chapter 2

Edward sat on the ground, grinding the cool earth under his palms. He scooped up a chunk of it for further examination. The rich brown dirt was soft and loose, and it drifted like sand through the cracks in his cold fingers. He played with it for awhile, the temperature of his fingers the same as that of the chilled soil.

It had been a cold summer, and the wildflowers in the secluded clearing looked anemic and withered from the lack of sunlight. The cloudy sky partially masked the full moon, and darkened the leaf-covered forest floor. The wood was only yards away, yet if he had human vision he would barely be able to delineate the tree line from the meadow. He wondered, if he were to sit there for eternity, whether he'd eventually blend into the bleak landscape or erode into the dust. Erosion. I don't deserve such a peaceful fate. He knew exactly what he deserved: a slow, painful death at the hands of some merciless executioner. The Volturi, perhaps? Maybe the wolves could make a deal...

Bella's voice interjected his thoughts. Her tone was light, effortless, pleading. Edward, you don't deserve death. You didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault. I followed James to the ballet studio.

"Of course, but it was my job to protect you, and I failed."

You saved me, Edward. I chose death over change. You fulfilled my dying wish.

"I killed you."

You healed me. You put an end to my suffering. Please, stop taking your frustration out on yourself. Be mad at me, blame me, I beg you.

He huffed. "The real Bella knew that I could never be mad at her."

She protested. I know that. You're much too selfless for your own good. But that doesn't mean you have to misplace guilt and suffer in silence. Her voice faded, drifted farther away. Please Edward, I don't want you to torture yourself anymore. Move on. Grieve me, if you must, but then go out and seek happiness. I know you'll find it. She was now whispering, barely audible. I love you. I love you too much to see you give up. Promise me you'll try?

"I promise."

He ran his muddy fingers through his hair, and his head throbbed. Her voice was gone; he knew that. This had been the fourth time he'd had this discussion with Imaginary Bella. Word for word, she repeated her desperate requests; word for word, he answered them the same way, always ending with I promise. That's all he ever said. He didn't know what else to say.

Of course, he had no intention of keeping that promise. Why would he keep a promise to a person who didn't exist? After all, Imaginary Bella was only an imitation, albeit a pretty flawless replica. She sounded just like Bella, and might even have responded in the same way. But he knew it wasn't Bella, it was absolutely impossible. He was hallucinating, conversing with his own mind. He really needed to remind his subconscious that Bella was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had enough voices barraging his head constantly; he didn't need another. By appeasing Imaginary Bella, he hoped that she'd eventually disappear. At least, that was the plan. The plan hadn't been working as well as expected.

He hadn't told Carlisle. Actually, he hadn't told anyone; he had assumed that she would have left by now. That's why he had assured Jacob of the virtue of his choice: he was trying to convince himself of it as well. His life depended on it. There was no other option: allowing himself to live hinged on this.

His train of thought came full circle: was taking Bella's life really the right choice? On one hand, the façade that he portrayed to everyone (Carlisle, Alice, Jacob, etc.) thought it was. So did Imaginary Bella.

On the other hand, the real Edward —the Edward that was buried deep under all the platitudes— was still unsure, and tended to lean the other way, if only to indulge his masochistic nature.

So he was at an impasse: he had to choose between two sides of himself, neither of which he could honestly call the "correct" side, which only served to frustrate him even further. In the past, he had always been so set in stone on one opinion or another, and very seldom was he ever indecisive about anything. It incensed him to know that he couldn't make up his mind about something so important.

He slid his feet toward his body and wrapped his arms around his knees. When he rested his chin on his forearms and closed his eyes, he tried to remember what life was like before the Spanish flu, before Carlisle changed him. It had been so long ago, so far removed from his current surroundings. He hadn't even been back to Chicago since the Great Depression. In his mind's eye, he saw a streetcar zoom by as he dodged traffic to get to a newsstand. He loved reading about the Great War going on in Europe, and hoped to enlist the next year. He remembered the smell of the various food carts on the sidewalk, the cheers of the crowd as he ambled by Wrigley Field, and feeling like a salmon swimming upstream as he pushed against the flow of human traffic crossing the street to get to their various destinations. The people, the noise, the smells, the skyscrapers...

Didn't expect to see you here on time.

Edward leapt to his feet and then crouched down into a defensive stance in a millisecond, hissing in alarm.

Jacob shifted quickly and held his hands out in front of him. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming."

Edward relaxed his posture and ran a hand through his hopelessly unkempt auburn hair. "I was lost in a daydream. I guess I didn't hear you. My apologies."

Jacob laughed, and replied as he was buttoning his cutoffs. "Daydreaming? I thought it had to be daytime for that."

Edward rolled his eyes. "It's a figure of speech. I never sleep anyway, so daytime is all the time for me, I suppose."

"You don't sleep? Ever? No way," Jacob said, as he shot the vampire a puzzled glance.

Edward shook his head. "Never. Well, it's not that I want to avoid sleep, it's that I'm incapable of sleep." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Huh. I never thought of that. I guess that's why you guys are so pale, and have bags under your eyes, and stink to high heaven!" Jacob smirked, speaking as if he had stumbled upon a wondrous scientific discovery.

Edward laughed at the jibe, and struck back with a witticism of his own. "Oh really? I'm the one that smells? There's a reason that the cliché 'to smell like a wet dog' exists. Some stereotypes are true."

"It's better than smelling like a weird combo of blood and sickly sweet perfume."

"As if you don't also smell like blood. Remind me what you eat when you're hunting with the pack?" Edward shot back. Jacob frowned, obviously beaten, which made Edward chuckle.

"Oh ha ha, you won. You're so clever. Why don't you pick on someone your own age? What are you, like, a hundred?"

"About ninety, actually."

"See, you've practically had ages to perfect your comebacks."

"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose you're pretty skilled... for an infant."

Edward laughed even harder when he saw the scowl Jacob made. Jacob, looking to avoid any further verbal abuse, decided to change the subject. "So what were you daydreaming about? I mean, how were you even dreaming anyway? You know, since you can't sleep and all."

"Oh, nothing really. I wasn't really dreaming, just thinking about the days before I... changed."

"You mean before you became a bloodsucker?"

Edward smirked. "Yes, before I became a bloodsucker." He rolled his eyes and sarcastically put emphasis on the mildly offensive term.

Jacob gave another puzzled face. "Ninety years ago? You remember all that?"

"Unfortunately, I've been cursed with a great memory, even before being changed. I was just thinking about how much I missed Chicago."

Jacob wrinkled his nose. "Chicago? I never took you for a city boy."

"You must remember, I grew up in a time when men held doors for women, pushed their chairs in for them, and expected a home-cooked meal as soon as they got home from work every day. I may be a city boy, but I'm still old-fashioned."

Jacob scoffed. "Please, save me the lesson on chivalry and respect. I hear it enough from all the old women on the reservation."

"What do you expect? I'm practically a hundred. I'd fit right in at a nursing home." They both laughed at that.

By this time, they had both regained their seats: Edward on his moss-covered boulder, and Jacob on his huge, decaying pine tree stump. Edward continued. "Contrary to popular belief, not much was really different about that era. The Windy City was windy, the Cubs were mediocre, everyone complained, and no one really cared." He sighed. "Life was simple. Certainly not like now."

"You're telling me." They returned to their comfortable silence. Jacob folded his arms, sitting cross-legged. He sighed, and looked at the ground. He didn't know how they had immediately fallen into a friendly chat, but it felt good to relax, and he wasn't about to question it. But after a few moments more, the quiet grew into an awkward one, which prompted Jacob to offer a question that he was dying to know the answer to. "What's the thing you miss the most about her?" he muttered, almost inaudibly.

Edward shut his eyes and thought a moment. "Her constant need to keep others happy. Since that's a trait we both shared, we always did what we thought the other wanted. Neither of us ended up willingly doing something we enjoyed." He shook his head. "I know it doesn't sound like a good thing, but it was comforting to know that we always had each other in mind. What about you?"

Jacob answered without hesitation, his voice low and husky. "The way she always told me that she loved me. All the time, almost constantly." His eyes never left the ground.

Pain shot through Edward's heart, not out of jealousy, but of loss. She had done that with him as well. While asking for something, when having a question answered, during conversation. Can you pass the salt? Thanks. Love you, Edward. It had been like a reflex to her. He swallowed, trying to keep his composure. As if they needed more emotional drama after the night prior. "That would have been next on my list."

Tears were forming in Jacob's eyes, and he quickly blinked them away. "It seems like everyone's moved on with their lives except for me. I can't go five minutes without thinking of her."

Edward's golden eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? Do you think I have just completely forgotten and moved on? I don't have short-term memory loss, Jacob. I can't go seconds without realizing what I've lost. What we all lost." He ran his fingers through his hair again, resting his elbows on his knees.

Jacob mentally smacked himself. Why was he such an idiot? "I didn't mean that. I know you feel the same way. I'm talking about besides you. I mean, even Charlie has gotten over it. He's already back at work. Look, I know people have different ways of dealing with grief, but I feel like no one cares that she was just here one day and gone the next. Are they are just okay with that?"

"I don't know, Jacob. I understand what you're saying. I read people's thoughts and I still don't know." The silence was thick with tension, but still not disquieting. Edward looked up at the moon, which was dodging in and out from behind the clouds, as it had done last night.

Without speaking, Jacob stood up, walked over the border, and took a seat near Edward on a smaller boulder. When Edward shot him a questioning glance, he rolled his eyes. "We're not on patrol, and there's no rule that says I'm not allowed to cross the line. It's not like this means anything."

Edward chuckled. "I don't know. Sitting this close might constitute friendship."

Jacob paused. He glanced up, and saw that Edward was looking directly at him, and the two were locked in a stare down. Edward found himself lost in the huge brown orbs that were tainted with sorrow and hope. He heard the werewolf mumble, "I'd like to be friends."

Bella's voice wafted lightly through the air. Go out and seek happiness. I know you'll find it.

"Friends?" Edward saw himself offer out his hand, but he wasn't actually controlling the movement.

Jacob looked at the pale hand. Slowly, he reached out and grasped it with his own bronze hand. He flinched at the chilled skin of the vampire, but did not pull back. Likewise, Edward was shocked at the extreme warmth that pulsated in time with the wolf's heartbeat, but kept his grip tight. They shook hands for a beat longer than necessary, then hesitantly let go.

A significant, singular moment transcended the space between the two unlikely friends. Edward felt it zing through his icy flesh, starting in his head and flowing down through his toes. Jacob sensed it move through his veins and flood his muscles with light.

The clearing had never been so still. Not a cricket chirped, and not a single blade of grass was disturbed by the wind. Feeling threatened by the silence, Jacob finally spoke. "So what does this mean?"

Edward looked over at him, and flashed him a crooked smile. "It means I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he stood up and zoomed out of the clearing into the forest. Jacob sat there alone for a while longer. He realized that dawn was fast approaching. He needed to get back to La Push and get some sleep. Before heading that way, he stared at the empty blackness into which Edward had sprinted. See you tomorrow, Edward. Good night, friend. He shifted, and headed towards home.