Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or Robert Frost's poem Fire and Ice.

A/n: Whoop whoop chap two here! Sorry it took so long to update I was on vacation for a week. And I'm updating now cause I'm leaving again for two weeks so it will be awhile before I update again. Sorry! Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Fire And Ice

My eyes urged to open as I came back into conciseness, but I still did not have enough energy to peel them open. In spite of some mental self-arguing to attempt to open them, I freely succumbed and let my eyelids droop heavily.

I could tell I had turned mortal again, but my body was uncomfortably warm and sweaty. I felt like I was having a fever. And I am not talking about the haste destructive transformation that leaves me feeling feverish. This one was a real fever. I finally considered the cause of the heat were the layers of blankets I felt clinging onto my body. I was too exhausted to even attempt to remove them.

So I remained wherever I was just arguing with myself. I have been doing that a lot lately, haven't I?

Wait. 'Wherever I was?' That reminded me: where was I again?

Too quickly for my mind to protest or begin to argue once again, my eyes flew open as I took a quick glance around.

I was in a foreign room. Quite a vacant room as well. Besides a book-lacking bookcase, a vintage (if you could use vintage as an euphemism for rotting at the core) desk with a burnt out candlestick placed on the edge, and the mattress I was laying on. There were also tall white doors that seemed to loom over me. The intensely bright white walls aggravated my already troubled eyes. As empty as it was, it was still somehow pleasant. Simply because of a massive window, with no curtains or sills attached, in the center of the opposite wall letting the early sun's rising occur inside the room. The room had acquired a glow from the sun, it was a dim yellow.

I slowly pulled back a blanket, but soon put it back in place. I was too cold without it, but too warm with it. I suppose I rather tolerate the heat just as I so often do, but I can only continue for so long...

The fever was causing me to feel exhausted and confused. I was having half-slept dreams. Of Edward, of course. I would die to see him in this lovely glow. I could vividly imagine his skin sparkle in the golden subtle sun as he grins at me with that crooked smile. Sigh...I disgust myself...

After a while, I became restless from the heat and began rustling through the blankets. I did not feel well, I was nauseous and sweating.

I heard a chuckle, I supposed it was cause of my constant rustling. My constant nude rustling, I had not given much thought to my current appearance until now. I wish I had brought extra clothes before I stormed out last night. I could not go back now, not after father seeing me so weak...

I was hoping it would be Edward's, but this was not at all his chuckle. I had not even wondered if someone else was here. I could hear my mind mocking myself as well. This chuckle contrasted the light, gentle one belonging to Edward. This chuckle was hoarse, and deep.

Someone emerged before me from behind the large doors. He was not at all like Edward. He was not very tall, but he was quite slim. He was wearing tight black pants and a red shirt which accented his nicely slight muscles. He was pretty average though. Well, anyone is when compared to Edward. He had feathery blonde hair, one hair brooded upward unlike the rest on top of his head, and two large bangs accompanied his face. A braid lay upon back about up to his shoulder blade. His hair, however, exceeded average because it was so bright, and shining. It complemented the glow in the room. The most, maybe only, Edward-like part of him was his eyes. They were piercing gold, but still were youthful and soft somehow. Almost like Edward's eyes, but they still could not compare. His eyes may have been heavenly, but Edward's were godly.

His eyes laid upon mine with curiosity, probably wondering who would be first to speak. He had a wide smile with all teeth visible much unlike Edward's shy crooked grin.

He easily lifted the blanket of silence, and was not at all uncomfortable like I was. "You know I found you laying down in the forest after a whole night of rain...naked. Why the hell were you naked?" His voice was fast like Edward's but did not have the same flow or elegance. I watched his eyes began to wander lower as he uttered the word naked.

I felt my already warm cheeks heat up as blush graced my face, and I looked away from his stare. He chuckled, again. I clinched onto the blanket tighter to assure full coverage of my body. How did he make me feel intimated like Edward does if he is so less, well, perfect?

He stood waiting for an answer even though he knew I would not. "Well? Come on, answer!" he finally said.

"Because...," was all I managed to say. Before he could try again I said, "Thank you very much for taking me in like this." I almost forgot to thank him for taking in the naked stranger I refused to believe I was.

His questioning and steps towards me made me feel uncomfortable until a familiar fragrance could no longer hide from my strong nose. It smelled like sweet moist earth, this smell relaxed me, but somewhat aroused me as well.

"Your welcome. What's your name?" I was beginning to adjust to his loud voice and his blunt, almost rude, nature.

"Jacob, yours?"

"Edward Elric," he stated coolly, but with a hint of pride.

I sort of liked how less perfect he was than Edward. Edward was so refined, polite, and composed. But this Edward was much different. He was blunt, volatile, not in anyway diplomatic because he would always just say how he felt. It was so refreshing, something he rarely encountered. Everyone around him was either too cold or too polite, either way would be a form of concealment. This was including himself, he felt too unsure and too afraid to tell everyone exactly what he felt.

I shuddered, I found it so odd that he shared that name with a god. My god. It could not have been a coincidence...the name was no longer very common. He seemed to notice my shiver, and thought it was because of my fever.

"You know it was real stupid to sleep in the cold rain naked," he pointed out.

I did not answer, but he continued, "Your fever doesn't seem to be any better than before when I found you. Why did you sleep in the rain like that?"

I still did not answer. Frustrated he sighed and headed for the door. As he left as he said, "There's some clothes in the drawer over there." He pointed to the desk. He kept clothes in his desk drawer?

The door's slam startled me and echoed throughout the entire room.

The offer of clothes tempted me great enough to actually move. So I slowly sauntered throughout the spacious room. I stood in front of the bookcase. There were four shelves. I gazed at each shelf to see the scarce books. They were all very different from each other, but all were intriguing.

One was about Van Gogh. Another about conjoined twins. The other few were mainly books about Alchemy on the bookcase. I crouched down to look at the lowest shelf, and there was only one book. A collection of Robert Frost's poems. There was a battered bookmark protruding out. I slowly took the book into my hands and stood back up straight. Out opf curiousity, I went immediately to the bookmark to see why it had been selected especally. I scanned the poem that that boy seemed to favor.

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

The silence seemed to make the poem have a stronger impact. I suppose the silence made it more profound because it made me feel alone. I also was alone in the blunt relation I found it had with myself. In awe, I still glared at the jumble of words. They seemed as if this Robert Frost fellow wrote to disturb me, specifically. My mind could not help but think about the symbolism between ice and fire - vampires and werewolves.

I have already been decaying in fire, but I much rather quickly end with ice. I would rather forever be a beautiful hollow shell than endure a werewolf's slow demise. Such a slow, severe fire that starts from within and never stops consuming until nothing is left. Nothing at all...

I closed the book quickly and loudly, these thoughts were redundant and I was truly sick to my stomach...

Yes, destruction from ice would do much more than just suffice...

A/n: I hope no one is disappointed with the addition of Edward Elric to the story. I do not at all mean for this story to be a Full Metal Alchemist Crossover, but I just wanted to borrow the character for this story. Tell me how you feel about it while you hopefully review. So please review!