WHOO! THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER I'VE EVER WRITTEN, I FEEL SO PROUD. THEN AGAIN, IT MIGHT BE CRAP. BUT AT LEAST IT'S MY CRAP. ENJOY.

DISCLAIMER: INTERVIEWER: STEPHANIE, WHO IS THAT TALL, DARK AND HANDSOME MAN THAT EDWARD MEETS IN ITALY?

SM: OH, THAT'S ANDY. I THOUGHT HIM UP ALL BY MYSELF.

-I CRASH INTO THE STUDIO- LIAR!! HE'S MINE! YOU ALREADY HAVE EDWARD, ISN'T THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU!

TRANSLATION: I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT FOR ANDY.

EPOV

"I don't mean to be rude, but you look like hell." The figure in front of me said. He looked down at the glass in his hand, as if considering something. I blinked and suddenly, it was in front of me. "Here, mate" he said, "You need it more than I do." My hand flicked out and grabbed the glass that contained my only lifeline. I knew that it was probably human blood, but I was so thirsty that I didn't care enough to voice my concern. But, as the blood flowed down my throat, I could tell it was not human. My eyes leapt to the man standing in front of me; a thousand questions that begged to be asked were contained in them, and he seemed to see the one of most importance.

"Gianna gets all my blood from the slaughter house outside of the city limits. She mentioned that your family members were animal drinkers, so I thought I'd be courteous and make you a cup." I could hear the slight London accent in his voice; it was almost identical to Carlisle's.

"You're a Londoner, then?" I asked. Confusion swept across his face at my quick observation. "I could tell by your accent. My father's is the same." His face split into a true smile, as if my words seemed to comfort him.

"Then all hope is not lost for you Yanks." He playfully sneered. "Tell me who is your father?"

"He was born to a minister in the 1640s. If you knew him, then you probably know that he led 'witch hunts' around the city on his father's command."

"I was the subject of one of those once." He said, his face faraway, as if he was remembering a distant memory. This sudden openness came as a shock to me. I barely knew this man's name, and he was revealing his whole life to me. He seemed to sense my discomfort, because he quickly apologized. "Sorry, it's just…I haven't had anyone to really talk to for so long. I didn't mean to appear forward."

"What was your name again?" I asked, out of the blue.

"Andrew. Andrew Ravenwood." I nodded. "You know, you still haven't answered my question."

"What was that?" I did not remember being asked something.

"Why are you here?" he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Felix threw me in here on Aro's orders. You should know that."

"I do. What I mean is why are you here?" My face must have remained blank, because he soon saw fit to elaborate. "Why are you, a perfectly sane vampire with a good family, in Italy on a suicide mission?" His eyes seemed to bore into mine, searching for an answer. He suddenly straightened up and, in a perfect dead pan, asked: "Who was she?" How the hell-?

'What?"

"OK, tough subject. What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you must have done something worthy of this self-flagellation." He sat back in his seat, patiently waiting for an answer. I took a deep breath. What did I have to lose?

"I left her." I sighed. Andrew tilted his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. Just he had to be confused about was beyond me.

"Why?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I said why. Why did you leave? Did you love her?"

"Yes,"

"Did she love you?"

"For some bizarre reason, yes." He smiled a bit at that, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Then what was the problem?" he looked at me the way he had when he asked what I was doing in Italy. Then, his eyes softened, and for one second, I thought he knew all about Bella and her blood, Jasper and the party. I thought he knew about everything; but that was impossible. "She was a human wasn't she?" I nodded, not bothering to be alarmed that he knew so much. "You left to save her." His voice trailed off, and the look of remembering was upon his face again. "I may know more about that then you think." By the time I looked up again, Andrew was standing up. "Do you want a drink Edward?"

"Sure." I said uneasily. He turned on his heel and strode to a machine on the right side of his apartment. To me it looked like a microwave next to a refrigerator. With one fluid movement, Andrew reached into the latter and pulled out what looked like two large, red ice cubes. He then proceeded to put these into separate cups, and put them into the microwave. I must have been staring because he merely chuckled.

"This is my version of hunting," he smiled and tapped the machine. "It's a steamer. You put the blood in and it steams it to perfection." Andrew smacked his lips in mock enjoyment. (A/N: I have a confession to make. This is not my idea. This idea was thought up by the brilliant Ranma1577, and appears in her story 'Escaping Sol'. Read it, it rocks.) Andrew strolled back to his seat and we waited in silence for the drinks to be done. When they were he poured the blood into two, ornate glass tumblers. I was almost afraid to touch mine. By the time I was all settled in my seat, which was very comfortable, he was sitting eagerly across from me.

"So," he began, "Is there anything about me that you want to know? We have all the time in the world." I pondered that last statement, and then went about deciding which question I should ask first. I only had about a million and a half. I settled on something simple.

"How old are you?" The shock on his face was perfect, until he laughed at my expression. Wow, the guy really was an actor.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." He sighed. "I hope you don't mind, I'm extremely long-winded." I nodded for him to begin. "Well, I was born on May 13th, 1482 in London, so I guess that makes me 524 this May. (A/N: New Moon was published in 2006. I'm going by that.)" I waited for him to continue.

"That's it?" I was slightly disappointed. This guy was not good at the whole 'distraction' thing.

"There's more, of course, but I don't want to bore you." I might not have been able to read this guy's mind, but I knew that if he had been down here long enough, he would want to talk to somebody. Even if that somebody was a pathetic murderer.

"Oh, come on! What else to we have to do? What's your story?" as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was terribly anxious to know how this guy knew me. In fact, I was kind of freaking out about it.

"My story?" I merely nodded, waiting for him to begin. He laughed softly and looked down at the carpet before answering. "It's exactly the same as yours. I am merely a few chapters ahead."

Well, that was entirely unhelpful. "I'm sorry but, I don't follow." Andrew chuckled again.

"My life started as everyone's does. I was born I grew up. I was turned by a vampire. I wandered the world for centuries, thinking that I was complete in myself. Then it all came crashing down on my head." His eyes seemed distant, as if he was reliving all that he was talking about. "I met her. I fell desperately in love, and then I lost her. And then I came here." He gestured to the apartment that we were sitting in, but I knew that he meant something else. He meant here as in 'the Vultori'. "I wanted death, so badly. I saw no purpose in living if I was not by her side." He suddenly looked up and stared at me. "Isn't that why you came here? Isn't that why you were so angry when they sent you down here to see me, instead of ripping you to shreds right on the spot?" My eyes must have held the confirmation he sought, because he nodded, ever so slightly, and got up to get another drink.

THE PLOT THICKENS! OK NOT REALLY, BUT R&R ANYWAY! FOCUS OF THE NEXT CHAPTER: CARLISLE. OOOOOHHHH MYSTERY.