Thanks to Lts29 & Bethaboo for the beta.

thank you for all the amazing reviews and support. This is well, different and you all seem ready for that ride.

I hope so.

~*~

Chapter 3

~*~

I paced wildly outside the cabin.

I had no idea what I was doing and what I even thought this would accomplish. My hands were coated in blood, her blood. And my shirt was soaked-the wetness seeping onto my skin.

The constant venom pooled heavily in my mouth.

I felt sick. Physically and mentally. I was sick.

This was worse than ever before. So much worse.

My feet began moving and I was running, circling the house manically, rushing over tree stumps and shrubs and rotting leaves. I wanted to keep going, to just leave and disappear.

Impossible.

I knew there was nowhere to go but face my decision.

It was wrong. I'd done the wrong thing.

What, I wondered, was the right thing?

It was impossible to know. I'd left all sense of reason hours before.

If, I only had turned back. If, I had made a different choice. If, I'd run the other way.

If…

~*~

After I fought off the mountain lion, I turned to find Isabella lying on the ground, a large boulder under her head. I clamped my mouth shut and stopped breathing. The scent of blood was overwhelming and almost incapacitating. The sight alone was enough to make my teeth gnash and fists clench. I would have attacked her right then and there, except for the overriding fact I thought she was already dead-that the impact had killed her.

A large flake of snow landed on my face, resting on my cheek, not melting on contact as it should have. It was another painful reminder of my inhumanness. I stared at Isabella's unconscious body, pushing down the desire. I was a weak being. I'd always been. In my human life and inhuman. I took what I wanted and denied myself only as a personal challenge.

For so many years, I didn't want anything. Not this life. Not Rosalie. Not a brother or two or a sister. They grew on me, in their own way, and I used them for what they were worth. A hunting partner. An easy target. Someone to boost my ego. A true friend…

They were there and I accepted this, but I never wanted any of it. Never, until that fateful day, had I desired anything other than maybe a car or a book, all which were easily within my reach.

And now, she was in my reach. Literally. Lying before me like an offering. I was overrun immediately by emotion. I stood over her in shock, staring down at her lifeless body, pale and red. Consumed by anger and upset, loss and grief. I'd longed for her for years, my life having been irrevocably changed due to her existence. And now, in the middle of the forest, she was dead, although impossibly, not by my hand.

Taking a hesitant step, I moved towards her, dropping quickly to my knees. My hand reached out tentatively, relishing the moment. I wanted to touch her. Feel her. I craved the feel of her porcelain-looking skin. My fingers grazed her cheek, drawing back immediately due to the spark of fire from contact. Her skin was still warm, but cold on the outside from the elements. She was damp, snowflakes hitting her flesh and melting instantly.

Everything around me became quiet. Only the pitter-pat of snowflakes landing on leaves, although…through my turmoil, I heard it. Low and pulsating. Moving my hand to her neck, I pushed it slightly, angling it away from the rock and looked closer. The bluish veins in her neck were visible and I could see the gentle movement under the surface. My eyes flicked to her chest and noted the infinitesimal shift of her body as it rose and fell with each breath.

She was alive. Injured, unconscious, and bleeding, but alive.

I almost leapt in celebration, although I had no idea what I was celebrating. Her life? My dinner?

Again, the options ran though my head. I could leave her. Allow her to bleed out and die a natural death-one that kept my hands clean. I could remove the carcass of the lion with the suspicious injuries I'd inflicted. She could remain here until she was located or until her body merged into the forest itself.

Or, and the simple thought ran though my body like wildfire, I could kill her, as had been my plan. Drink from her feeble body, drain her life quickly and efficiently. She wouldn't feel it. It would even possibly be a gift-to relieve the pain and misery that was sure to come as the temperature dropped and the snow continued to fall.

My eyes ran down her body as she lay before me. Her hair was wild, her purple stocking cap removed in the altercation. Her jacket wasn't heavy enough for the elements and soaking wet. She only wore jeans and brown, mud crusted boots. She was ordinary. Basic. Unmentionable.

But she tugged at my mind. I wasn't ready to let her go. Not her, I'd thought. I'd daydreamed and mused over this girl for years. I wasn't particularly convinced I could let her go so easily. This third option popped in my head and took root. Instead of killing her or letting her die, I could, in fact, take her home.

For what?

The angel that resided inside asked. Or was it the devil? I had no clue which one was asking and no idea what the answer was.

No, I knew was that I wasn't ready to let go. I wasn't ready to let her go.

So I reached my arms out, bracing myself for her smell and her blood and her breath, and picked her up, cradling her head gently against my arms. She was so small-almost weightless.

To imagine something so small and mortal held the key to my sanity was ridiculous.

Forcing my eyes ahead, I traveled through the woods and the path I had to follow to get home. We were miles away, and I wasn't sure if I could make it without succumbing. I felt a new respect for Rosalie doing this. Carrying Emmett hundreds of miles home to Carlisle. But she had other plans. Mine were not as honorable. There were moments when I wondered if I could even get to the house before temptation took hold. Her heart beat like a tiny drum, filling the cavities of my chest. And as I climbed over dead branches and rotting logs, I ignored the blood from her head, trickling down the arm of my shirt, soaking it and dripping towards my hand.

What was I doing? What was I doing? I chanted, the words echoing around my head. There was no acceptable answer.

We broke through the tree line to the house, my legs having moved faster than ever before. I needed her away from me, out of my hands, her flesh and blood needed to get away from me.

I needed her with me.

The thought ricocheted through my mind. I needed her. And I knew it was true. I needed Isabella to get better. To take the pain away. I needed her with me to figure out how to carry on. I needed her deep in the forest, close to me, filling me with life and vibrations and smelling like heaven sent from above. I needed her to teach me how to resist, because if I could resist her, I could resist anything.

I needed her in case I failed. My final damnation would be at her doing and hers alone.

I climbed the steps of my house, my shoes heavy on the smooth stone surface and managed to grip the doorknob while holding her. I grunted, as I pushed the heavy wooden door with my foot to get inside, not out of exertion but out of dismay that I had her in my home--that I was really doing this.

I carried her past the couch in the living room, the green one with, tiny blue flecks that Esme bought so many years ago. We rushed by the massive, stone fireplace, with an empty mantle, no photos or knickknacks as reminders. I entered the guest room and deposited her bleeding and wounded on the small single bed that had not been used once in my recollection.

Removing the pillow, I gently placed her head directly on the mattress and stepped away and looked her over. She was pale and weak. Blood instantly smeared across the crisp white sheet that covered the padding, assaulting my eyes and nose and mouth. I needed to clean her, but now was not a possibility. I didn't have the strength. It was more than I could fathom that I actually made it here--brought her here without failing.

I almost jumped when Isabella shuddered suddenly, violently, on the bed. Her body was reacting to the warmth of the house and I wondered briefly how long she had been outside. Her lips had turned purple in the winter air and her face and cheeks were wet from the dropping snow.

She was on the edge of death and I'd saved her and I wondered, pathetically, if it was possible for her to save me in return.

I started to turn from the room-the closeness of it all getting to me. But it seemed wrong. Just leaving her alone like this and the human inside me took over. I went to her side and reached for the edge of her coat, locating the zipper and tugging it down. She was too cold and too wet—if she didn't die from her injuries she would die from pneumonia, which would make this a waste—a total and utter waste. So I undressed her, pulling the coat off her arms, one at a time, I kept one hand on her neck for support, thinking back to my studies, and what Carlisle would do. Once it was removed, I grazed her ice cold fingers with my own, her gloves lying on the forest floor. I unlaced her boots and slid them off her feet, dropping them loudly to the floor. Glancing across the room, my eyes fell on a quilt, draped decoratively over the edge of a rocking chair in the corner. I grabbed it quickly and laid it across her unmoving body for warmth.

I stepped back, confused by my actions. Did I want to kill or save her? Was I keeping her alive, so I could ultimately take her life? Or was that stirring of human instinct I just felt leading me in a different direction?

Unsure, I stepped from the room in my dirty, bloodied clothes, and walked outside.

~*~

The snow was falling heavily, while I stripped the clothing off my body. I dropped them into the metal bin located behind the house that was used for burning trash or leaves, and opened the bottle I'd placed on the ground. The liquid lurched out of the top, dousing the pile of fabric and I quickly lit a match and dropped it into the soaking pile.

I'd managed to calm myself for the moment. I focused on what needed to be done and the first thing was to destroy the evidence. The flames grew quickly in the rusted bin, licking over the edge, burning rapidly and once I was satisfied the fire was contained, I walked across the back yard and into the cabin's backdoor.

I didn't acknowledge my reflection in the window. The one that showed how was wet I was from the snow, not to mention dirty from my earlier activities. I also didn't acknowledge the minute sounds coming from across the cabin in the small guest room off the living area, although I did consider the fact I was completely nude and how awkward this could be if she did wake up and found me.

Not likely, I thought and an image of her bleeding wound and lifeless body come to my mind. Clamping my mouth shut, and holding my breath, I strode by quickly and went upstairs to my bathroom.

Once inside, I pushed the curtain back and reached for the hot water knob, flicking it with my wrist until the water gushed out. I jumped in, feeling the cold water rush over my head, then shoulders, until it turned a scalding hot.

I needed to burn the day from my body.

Reaching for the soap, I began scrubbing my flesh. It was hard and impenetrable, but I had to remove the traces of her. I couldn't be damaged, but this girl, Isabella, tainted me. The thick steam of the shower enveloped me, the heat pressing against me and I lathered myself repeatedly, concentrating on my hands-where her blood had seeped under my nails and into the fine lines of my skin.

"Dear God, forgive me," I muttered and rested my head on the tile wall surrounding the bath. I brought my fist up and pounded dramatically, hoping that the words would carry. It was futile, I had gone too far this time and I wasn't sure how to get back. I doubted anything could make this better.

The water continued to rain down on my back, washing away the stains of my sins. In the course of a day, I had traveled the path of many men. The hunter, tracker, killer…I couldn't even utter the name to my final act.

I sighed heavily and turned my face to the water, wishing the spray to cleanse me, purify my actions-but I knew it was useless. I could wash the blood from my hands but, the consequences of my actions would carry on indefinitely.

Shutting the water off and pulling back the thick curtain, I stepped out as the steam released around me in the damp room. I grabbed a towel from the wall, running it though my hair, before wrapping it around my waist.

Still, I was unwilling to even look at myself in the mirror; I'd seen this man before, and passed by the fogged over surface without a second glance. Even though I was now clean, I had no desire to see the monster unleashed.

I paused in the doorway, on my way back to my room, clean but dripping wet this time, and listened to the sounds of the house--checking for the steady rhythm in the adjoining room. My fingers touch the smooth painted door, feeling the vibrations that traveled though the house. It would only take me a second to get though this door and down to her room. If I allowed it.

Her room.

Shaking my head, I swallowed once deeply before I continued on to my room, stopping at the large chestnut dresser and quickly selecting a pair of pants and a shirt before putting them both on. I was eager to get started on the work I had waiting on me.

Distractions, as it were.

I moved silently through the house, the only sound coming from the adjoining room. Phantom butterflies filled my stomach at the thought. It was wrong, and thrilling and oddly familiar. I was disturbingly comforted by the situation I had placed myself in.

Padding barefoot across the hardwoods and thick wool rugs scattered across the floor of the cabin, I stopped momentarily to switch on the computer, before crossing the room to the books lining the wall of the room. The room filled with the sound of the computer's hum as it warmed and came to life. Standing before the bookshelf, I easily found the book I wanted, and ran my finger down the spines of several others, wondering if they would also be of use. Selecting two, I hooked my finger on the lip of the spine and removed them from their spot, flipping through them quickly, before carrying them back over to the desk. I sat down heavily in the soft brown leather chair and sighed.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. A snap judgment in the forest had led me to this difficult place and now that I had chosen this path, there was no turning back.

~*~

ISABELLA SWAN.

I typed her name into the little box provided in the middle of my computer screen. I was googling her. Trying to find out what she was doing in my woods this afternoon. How she came to be there. Anything and everything there was to know about her.

I found nothing.

Well, close to nothing. A long string of Isabella Swans rambled down my screen. One owned a bakery from Texas. She had blonde hair and blue eyes from the photograph on her website. One was an Isabella Swan of the University of Idaho. Age 18. Another was a city employee in Kentucky from an article on a school fair. I found a list of profiles and clicked on each one until I finally found the one, the right one, with an image of her smiling and her bright brown eyes.

Happy eyes, not tinged in red, unworried and definitely not afraid.

I'd never seen this girl unafraid or comfortable. That day in Forks she had been under a microscope, fawned over by her classmates. Then, later, she had been subjected to my murderous glare and hostile behavior.

I lifted my fingers to the edge of the monitor and tilted it closer. She had been happy in this photograph. I could see it in her eyes and mouth. Her lips turned ever so slightly at the corners and you could see the contentedness in the depth of her eyes. I studied her face, engrossed, and moved the mouse to find out more, but was blocked by privacy settings.

The page did show me she was a student in North Carolina, Asheville, estimated to graduate next year. My eyes moved to her photograph again. I wondered, briefly, what she thought of me that first time, back in Forks. What she thought of me hours ago, when I stepped between her and the mountain lion. Did she recognize me? Did she, even for a brief moment, considered me her savior instead of what I really was?

Why this mattered I had no idea. Harshly, I tipped the screen away from me, and scowled, not wanting her pleasant eyes on me any longer. I choose a heavy book from the desk, the one I needed most and opened it. My hands gripped the edges of the wide leather book and began flipping pages quickly. I glanced at the topics, looking for the specific section I needed-that she needed.

My fingers stopped when I got to the right place, hovering over the words in question. I willed this to go away. I could never change what I had done, but right now I could change the manner in which I dealt with it.

The monster inside told me to destroy and retreat and lie.

The small human part I had in me, the one I'd fought to recover, toiled over my penitence, told me to clean up my mess and make it right.

Then, the one caught in the middle-a little bit of both, encouraged me to do what I was about to do.

My finger ran over the word at the top of the page, over the description and words that could change everything, depending on the choice I made.

Treating Traumatic Head Injuries.

I leaned back into my seat, the leather creaking under my weight and began to read.

I'm reading two fics right now that i am in heart with: one is Mabye I'm Amazed by alicedances01- i'll put it on my faves.

and the other is Bethaboo's genuis almost canon/au Eve: Apple of my Eye.

both excellent.

thanks for the read-let me know what you think.