As always, thanks to the reviewers.

Thanks to my fantastic beta, Mav. You rock, hun. (:

Disclaimer: Twilight and all its inclusive material are copyright to Stephenie Meyer; I do not own any aspect of the series nor do I make that claim. Also, this Disclaimer was borrowed from Leon McFrenchington, an awesome-tastic writer.

Original creations of this story, including, but not limited to, characters, settings, and plot, are copyright to me.


The Final Melody

Adjust

"It's not that some people have willpower and some don't. It's that some people are ready to change and others are not."
--James Gordon


June 17, 2010

I woke abruptly, my head aching. Dreams didn't often accompany me into sleep, but when they did, they were never peaceful. Just like reliving the six months of divorce paperwork and emotional turmoil in one night wasn't peaceful. It must have been something in the water, because I stopped having those nightmares back in freshman year of high school.

Everything was silent in the house. There were no clocks chiming, telling me that I was late for something; no dogs to wake me up when they needed to go out; no grumbling, blank-faced father to yell at me every time I did something wrong. It was nice, I thought, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Just to get up on my own time and not have to worry about some things for a change. It was nice.

Running a hand through my hair, I dragged myself to the bathroom, flicking on the light and then subsequently wincing as the harsh glare burned my eyes. They adjusted slowly, but when they had, I reached a hand over to turn the knob on the shower. As the water started flowing, I took a quick second to glance at myself in the mirror.

Normally I looked pretty average. Nothing out of the normal, my father had always told me. (Coming from the sex God business man himself, I had to take his word for it.) I'd inherited my mother's hair, which was a weird shade of red mixed with brown, making it look like I was a confused redhead. Or a rusty nail, but I preferred the confused redhead metaphor. Alongside that, I had my father's high cheekbones and jaw, whereas my mother gave me—yet again—her eye color and strong lashes. My nose had a slight crook to it, making everything about my face seem off-kilter to me.

But nothing about these features caught my gaze. I knew that appearances weren't everything—I'd learned that very early on in my life. No, it was the fact that all of these traits combined to give me a view of a very sad and anxious looking young man. A kid—who hardly knew what to do with himself—that didn't really know if he wanted to know what to do with himself. Confused, estranged, and bitterly angry, that's what he was. He was a sad excuse for a human being.

I sighed, throwing a leg under the spray of the shower, the rest of my body following. It was lukewarm and made me shiver, but I didn't really care enough to get out. I could always get out when I started to lose feeling in my body.

--

When I came downstairs forty-five minutes later, the house was still quiet. Not a sound could be heard, save for the swaying trees outside, the creek making enough noise to drown out the silence. I knew that my mom wouldn't have just up and left me by myself without an explanation, but some nagging part of me—maybe my stomach, because I was pretty hungry to tell the truth—convinced myself that she had left in that little blue Honda, and she wasn't coming back.

"Mom?" I called out, tentatively.

No one answered.

Frantically—and yet, trying to remain calm to resist looking like I was mad—I searched for her, passing through the kitchen immediately and then stopping just as fast. There, on the counter, was a stack of pancakes, the very top one holding a smiley face with strawberries and melting whipped cream, just like she made when I was real little. Next to the plate was a hand written note, the writing almost completely perfect; it resembled my own calligraphy-induced penmanship. The note read:

Edward, my love,

Mrs. Clearwater down at the Res needed some gardening tools. I ran down to drop them off, but don't worry if I don't come back too soon. She's a chatter, and I'd hate to leave her all by herself. I left the Volvo in the garage in case you wanted to go out and explore.
I love you,

Mom

Laughing outright at my ridiculousness, I shook my head. Of course she was only out at the Res. She'd told me in one of her billion letters that Harry Clearwater had passed away about a year ago, and she was helping Sue get her life back on track. From what she had described in her letters, Sue, after she had pretty much gotten over Harry the best she could, wouldn't stop talking. She talked about everything and everyone, and when she was on a roll, just no one could stop her. Suffice to say, I expected my mom to be held up for half of the day, at least.

The lure of the Volvo, the only other car my mother owned, was pretty strong. I didn't want to stay cooped up in that house all day, trying to avoid memories that I had long deemed best left forgotten. Since walking everywhere on foot would be kind of pointless, it was only reasonable to take the car.

My mother loved using that reverse psychology crap on me. She knew I'd want to drive the Volvo. She hadn't even told me that she'd kept it after she divorced dad.

I snatched the keys off of the counter, my stride determined as I pushed the garage-door button, the humidity of the day smacking me in the face as soon as it was open. As my eyes adjusted to the change, all I could see was green. Green moss, green tree trunks, green driveway…a never ending mess of green that I was smack in the middle of. Like a world of seaweed, and I was a fish, struggling to get out of the tempting shelter it had once seemed to offer.

God; being around my mother too much has me on the metaphors again.

Sliding into the front seat, I exhaled, loving the feel of the leather. I'd been coveting this car since I was old enough to even touch the steering wheel; they had bought it for me just before the divorce. When they did break up, dad didn't want me to keep something that had been—mostly—my mother's idea to get for me. So the car went with her, hers to do whatever she wanted to. I'd just thought that she'd sold it. Dad had hinted as much.

Buckling myself in, I jammed the keys into the ignition, immediately backing out of the garage and onto the gravel that led to the town roads. I winced, knowing that I was definitely scratching up wheels that hadn't been used since 2007, but I figured I'd get over it. Eventually.

Once on the black pavement, I reveled in the smooth transition the car held. I'd only gotten to drive that baby once before it was taken away from me, and it felt like being given back the greatest present in the world. No one could replace the feel of the engine, or the way my body fit into that specific seat. It was awesome. And I think I might have forgiven my mom—just a little bit—for letting me have it back.

After the initial shock of the car wore off, I didn't have a clue where to go. I could head into town, buy a few groceries for myself, but that seemed like a daunting task. There wasn't much to do in Forks, never really had been. As a little kid, I'd been pretty damn content to just gallivant through the woods and pretend that I was Robin Hood; but at nineteen, that wasn't going to cut it for me.

I found myself driving down to the Res, the little Indian Reservation situated just outside of Forks. There were a bunch of natives there that had been living there for as long as I could remember. Through generations the land had been passed down from father to son and so on, leaving a lot of the founding families still tied to the area. Families such as the Clearwaters.

It was no surprise when I ended up there, the small house hanging on, just barely. It looked like it had gone through a hurricane, and the lawn hadn't been mowed since God knows when. I could remember that Sue had two kids, a boy and a girl—why hadn't they helped her a little with the yard or something? Even I wasn't that much of a bitch to my mom not to help around the house. It wasn't that big of a deal to me, not really.

Gently, I rapped on the door, hearing my mother's laughter from inside. She knew that I didn't have anywhere to go, and that I would probably go there, especially when she opened the door and polite surprise covered her face. The smile that we shared grew on her face and there was no doubt that she had planned for all of this to happen. Stupid, stupid me.

"Edward!" she said, waving me in and motioning for me to take off my shoes. Furrowing my brow, I did so, getting pushed and pulled as she lugged me into the living room and plopped me down onto a well worn couch. "How nice of you to visit."

If anything, Sue Clearwater had been a beautiful woman. She had graying hair from her age, but it had at one point in time been a lovely shade of blond. Not platinum, like you see in the magazines, but very natural, a shade or two lighter than her darkened skin. She was slender, but in a frail kind of way, the kind that makes you think of grandmothers and great-grandmothers. From what I could tell, she didn't put much effort in trying to look nice for anyone, but she had a natural beauty in the face. Gentle features and cunning eyes watched my expression as my mother sat down next to me, folding her hands in her lap.

"Edward, it's been a long time," Sue said, clasping her hands around her knees, "Your mother has been telling me all about you."

"Yeah," I responded, not really sure what to say. Do I acknowledge the fact that they were gossiping about me?

"But what I was telling you, Liz, dear, was about the Chief's daughter? Down in Forks?"

My mother nodded knowingly. I sat back, utterly confused and content to just stay out of the conversation all together.

"Well, I heard that Mike Newton asked her to marry him. That poor boy—never stood a chance with that one. The Chief was always saying how glad he was that she's waiting to date until college, but I worry for him."

So this is what old women do when they don't have lives.

Mom nodded again, leaning forward like she had a big secret to tell. "She's a pretty girl. But she was always a bit…off, don't you know? You'd never see her hanging around with the other kids much, and she always had her tiny little nose in the books!"

They laughed.

God, help me.

"Jacob there was taken with her, too, though."

"Billy's son?"

The vague image of a runt with russet skin and long, dark hair filled my mind. Jacob and Billy Black. They owned the garage down the street that anyone—whether you lived in Forks or on the Res—went to if they had car trouble. Jacob had been a play mate back when we were younger, and then right before I moved he met Embry Call. Jealous as I was back then, that my best friend was hanging out with another, older kid, I wouldn't talk to him for the days leading up to our move. We haven't really spoken since then, so I didn't know how he was doing, other than what mom told me in the letters.

"I thought that he and Leah were…well," my mother tutted, her eyes skirting around. So, apparently, Leah must have been home. That was her name, Leah. I remembered now: a petite girl, wearing boy's trousers and a Bob Marley t-shirt too big for her to even walk in. She wanted to hang out with Jacob and I, but back then, girls still had cooties. It was always Jacob, Seth—her brother—and I finding ways to keep her out of whatever we were doing. It had been fun trying to avoid her, and then downright annoying when she went and told on us to Sue.

Girls, I scoffed.

"I'm not sure. She's been fickle about it, can't seem to make up her mind. She doesn't like the fact that he's still friends with Bella after everything that went down between them."

"Something happened?"

"Well, from what I understand, Leah thinks something happened but I don't—"

"Mom! I can hear you, you know!"

Both women cringed, sitting back from their previously heated conversation. They looked sheepish, served them right. If my dad and his buddies ever started talking about my love life then I would be downright pissed. It was not for parents to get involved with our lives unless we asked them to. When we were old enough to know right from wrong, we could make our own decisions without our parents interfering, enough to cause a disturbance. So seeing their expressions change to that of a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar was comical.

Leah stomped down the stairs promptly after that, glaring at the two women before us.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she growled, narrowing her eyes at her mother. Sue shrugged, trying to placate her daughter.

"You know I just worry about you, honey."

"Why can't you ever bug Seth about his life?"

"Because you know all he does is hang out with Embry and them. I already know what's going on in his life. You make everything so much more fun by making it a secret, dear."
She sighed, rubbing her eyes and then staring at me.

"Who're you?" she demanded, cocking a hip to the side and attempted to stare me down. I stared right back, nonchalant, even as my mother chastised her behavior. Leah hadn't really grown up all that much—the only difference I could see was that she got taller, and gained some semblance of fashion sense. No more Bob Marley.

"What, you don't recognize your childhood sweetheart?" I replied, forcing a bit of snark into my answer.

Her eyebrow arched, and her mouth opened impossibly wider. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Really, now? Edward Cullen back in Forks? It must be the apocalypse."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your love of sarcasm, Leah."

"Glad to see you're still a dick, Edward."

"Leah Clearwater!" Sue screeched, jumping off the sofa and almost toppling over sideways with the movement. Leah was already gone through a swinging door that I assumed led to the kitchen. My mother shot me an embarrassed look, her mouth set in a stern line. I knew that she didn't like what I had said, but hey, Leah had started it. It wasn't exactly my fault that she couldn't get over her crush on me when we were kids.

"Edward," she said in a low voice, "That wasn't nice. If she comes back out here, you need to apologize. Sue's got enough on her plate right now without a fuss."

"It wasn't my fault," I hissed.

She leaned back, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter, Edward. It's the principle of the thing."

"I don't need to apologize for something I didn't do."

Suddenly, I was very tired. Mom hadn't done anything to make me angry; she wasn't even upset that Dad hadn't sent me to visit her until now. I was nineteen and fully capable of getting a taxi and driving down to the first airport that I could. Of course, Dad had threatened to take away any chance I had at going to college, but if I wanted to, I could. That was all that mattered to me as I stood and walked out of the dingy little house, hearing Leah scream at her mother about wanting to move on from her father's death, and not being able to take her moping around the house any longer.

I passed my mom's car with her frilly fru-fru junk stuffed in it, wondering why I couldn't have done anything to make their relationship better. How stupid of me was it to come to my mother, seeking the comfort that I hadn't really been given for the years of turmoil they spent together? This place wasn't for me. My mom couldn't do anything to change me that my dad hadn't already tried. I knew what they were doing, and it wasn't going to work. Not this time, not ever. Not even when I moved away from both of them, got my degree, and did exactly what my father had always wanted me to do.

I was a slave of life, and I was helpless to stop it.

--

I didn't go home right away. I knew that mom would excuse herself and then find a way to track me down in a matter of minutes if I even went anywhere in Forks. I drove around the Res, looking for something to do, when a sign caught my eye:

Cliff Diving, Tomorrow at Noon. Five bucks for instruction.

I laughed, mostly to myself. Back when I lived here before, you didn't need to pay to go cliff diving. You simply did it. The only thing that you could do around the Res that required money was rock climbing and that was only because you had to pay to rent the gear. As I looked out over the cliffs, the little shack for the diving instruction boarded up and closed, I felt restless. I wanted to go cliff diving without anyone's instruction. And I wanted to climb walls without any gear on. Anything that would up the ante a little.

There was only one place to get the gear for rock climbing, and at the time, it had seemed like such a good idea. Driving recklessly around deserted streets didn't hold as much of a thrill as it did in the city. No one to race, really, except for maybe a passing deer. I always won.

Newton's was open, just as I suspected it would be. There were four cars parked outside, and one of them had to have been the oldest truck that I had ever seen. Rusty and painted a ridiculously fading red color, it must have been picked up in the sixties. I had no clue who would even bother trying to ride around in that thing. It was practically a hazard to one's health.

The little door bell rang as I pushed it open, averting my eyes when a blond haired boy with bright blue eyes smiled and waved at me. Forks had always been a friendly bunch, I thought, moving swiftly down the aisles to the harness rack. I could hear people talking up front, and a couple came in a moment later, talking to the boy. My gaze caught a brunette running something into the back before she disappeared.

I refocused, remembering that it was only a matter of time before my mom found me. Grabbing the harness and some chalk, I brought them up to the front, pulling my wallet out and glancing at the registrar for a moment.

"Just renting or buying?" the kid asked, looking at me curiously.

I thought about it. "Buying."

"That'll be seventy-six, fifty-five, sir. And if you want lessons, we have an awesome instructor in the back. She can take you to some pretty good climbs up behind the store." He motioned to the girl that I could see was stocking something behind a halfway-open door.

I shook my head, taking the bag he held out for me. "No, thank you."

"You sure? Because she doesn't mind. Do ya, Bells?"

"What?" a faint voice called, a head starting to appear from behind the door.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I murmured, shaking my head again. The guy probably thought, hey, a city guy can't climb fucking rocks. So let's get the girl to show him how to do it, eh? That would be a good laugh. Everything was pissing me off, and I just needed to get out of there.

"Okay, man," he called, "Have a nice day."

I hate Forks.

--

August 3, 2045

The girl laughed as she went to turn to the next page, but the boy shook his head, exhausted. "We've read enough for today. How about we finish tomorrow, and then we can read the other two days?"

The girl, obviously annoyed, pushed the boy off of the couch and narrowed her gaze at him. He had promised her not even yesterday that they would read two days, every day until they finished the journal. Now he was trying to back out of the claim? What a poser.

"No way. You promised. Plus, mom said that we don't have to be home for another hour."

"I know, but it's so boring," he whined, huffing from the dusty floor. He sneezed for a good few minutes before adding, "There's no action. No build up, just a lonely guy writing out his frustration."

"I think there's more to it," the girl disagreed. "Nobody saves something like this unless it's special."

The boy sat up. "Not true. Mom saved that apple pie she made, and it was not special. She can't cook pies to save her life."

"Whatever," the girl grumbled, closing the journal and hugging it. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to know the nineteen year old guy whose journal they were reading, not be stuck with her annoying brother and all of his comments on how boring their summer was going to be.

"I bet it's a love story," she added. "The best love stories are real."

"Gross," the boy retched.

"You're gross!" She stuck out her tongue, and was then chased back down the stairs by her twin, leaving the book lying on a dusty old sofa. Awaiting tomorrow.