AN:

AN: Kay, guys. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had a bucket-load of problems and other things that kept me from the computer. Not to mention some writer's block. Here's the chaptah!

Mini-Recap: Throwing our cards on the table without bothering to clean up, Jake and I sauntered over to the plush couches. "Is he always this grave?" I asked in an undertone, though I knew Charlie's super-senses could pick it up anyway.

"Nah," Jacob replied in the same quiet voice, plopping down on a couch that was considerably short for his lanky build. "He just misses his family."

And, sinking into a blue cushioned couch, I fell asleep next to the werewolf with the vampire watching over us.

Summary: AU. Canon Pairings. Sequel to Little Miss Pipedream. He always believed that he would do anything for his angel. But then reality takes the phrase, "I'd go to the ends of the Earth for her," literally and he is thrown head first into a worldwide search for the love of his life.

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Twilight; Stephenie Meyer does. I also do not own the Wombats, or their song, Lost In The Post.

.:o0o:.

Chapter 3 – Yellow Hair

Edward

Raising the mug to my lips, the black coffee trickled down my throat as my eyes fluttered shut, inhaling the sweet smell of coffee grinds in the air. I set the cup back down on the ring-stained napkin, rubbing my thumb over the smooth ceramic surface of the handle. My eyelids opened and I was met with the sight of the miniscule café. It was a lucky find; a nice sociable staff, I found as the middle-aged waitress had sat down with me discussing the pros and cons of plastic cups to styrofoam ones; wonderful coffee, with a wide selection and freshly ground beans; and a quiet atmosphere, soothing music in the background and only a handful of customers here and there.

Jacob and Charlie, true to their word, set out just after dawn every morning, waking me only to say that they'd be back by nightfall. So instead of staying in the empty penthouse by myself like I had for the past week or so, I had ventured out into the streets, trying to find a comfortable place to read the paper. Never having been to New York before, I discovered that I fit in almost perfectly with the fast-paced city. It really was the place to be. The only thing about it that bothered me was its size. The vampire-werewolf search party duo had been exploring high and low for the past ten days, and they had yet to pick up her scent. But none of us lost hope.

The coffee shop and bakery, Luna's Café I think it was called, was in a quiet neighborhood, or as quiet as New York could ever be. It was only a few steps off the beaten path, but it was worth it. I couldn't think of a better place to spend my Monday morning.

Stuck on the monster Sudoku – the newspaper puzzle I had taken a liking to, almost forming an addiction – I took a bite of the cream-filled doughnut, relishing the way the cream squeezed into my mouth, its sweetness a small slice of heaven. Chewing the homemade dough, I flicked the ballpoint pen in between my two fingers, my eyebrows scrunching as I tried in vain to figure out the enormous puzzle that seemed almost impossible. Washing the bite down with another gulp of coffee, I wrote a neat nine in the middle of the corner box.

Given the time I now had, I mulled my whole situation over thoroughly. To me, it really seemed as if everything was an extensive dream and I was just waiting to wake up to find her in my arms again, telling me that it was my turn to make breakfast. But, alas, it was not a dream – nor a nightmare – she was really gone, and I was here in New York City, rooming with two characters out of a storybook. Though I was not completely out of my depressed funk, I thought I had been doing a lot better, seeing as I was trying to put in an effort of finding the girl of my dreams, instead of moping around in my – our – apartment all day long.

Money wasn't much of a problem. I had asked Charlie whether I should take another job, after I had quit the one back in Cape Disappointment. But he had turned down the idea, telling me that he had enough money in the world. I guess accumulated cash was just some perk of living forever. It still didn't feel right to me, though, using his money. But he insisted.

I often wondered what the family was doing back at home and how everyone was taking my sudden departure. I sometimes had sudden impulses to call them, but ignored it, knowing that I would be guilt-tripped into anything that anyone said. I still felt guilty when I didn't answer Mom's phone call the other day.

"Need a refill, dear?" I looked up, drawn out of my small bubble, at the red-haired waitress who thought styrofoam was not meant to be drunk out of. Nodding, she poured me another steaming cup of hot brown liquid, the steam swirling into the air, spouting from the mug. She set the pot down on the glass-topped table and sat down across from me, folding her hands under her chin. "You look like you could use a nice bit of company," she said, smiling.

"Of course," I replied, not wanting to be rude, and held out my hand, saying, "Edward Cullen, ma'am."

She grasped my hand in hers, shaking it gently. "Call me Maggie, dear."

My lips twitched upward as I raised the mug again to my lips, taking a long, soothing sip. The woman reminded me of my mother with her habit of British vocabulary.

"Something wrong, hun?" Maggie asked, cocking her head to the side as her eyebrows pulled together, her red lips frowning.

"I . . ." I started, trailing off, not knowing what to say. "Don't know," I finished lamely.

"Is it a woman?" the waitress inquired, a knowing spark in her eyes. I chuckled quietly. Just like in the movies, I thought. "I'm correct, am I not?" she continued, smirking.

"I guess you could say that," I replied, ripping off a small piece of the doughnut and popping it in my mouth.

Maggie sighed. "What happened?"

I wrinkled my nose. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," she sighed, "I've been needing to hear a good story."

I frowned. "It's not much of a happy story."

"Well, we'll just have to change that, now won't we?"

Glancing up at the woman, the red-haired waitress who seemed to chat with her customers often, I grinned softly as I stole another few drops of coffee. Twisting the mug around in my fingers as I put it back on the table, I took a deep breath. Maggie refilled my mug yet again as I launched the story. "It all began when I moved in next-door to the clumsiest girl on Planet Earth . . ."

.:o0o:.

People-watching was on the agenda for today. I had always been interested in observing different people, reading their facial expressions and trying to get inside their head. With a few years of practice, I was quite good with guessing their thoughts. But before I headed out, I stopped in Luna's Café for a quick cup.

Maggie was working again today, tending two other customers when I walked in. One was an old man with white hair and balding. He was sloppily sipping his mocha and gibbering on and on to a nodding Maggie, who I was sure was hanging on to his every word, as she did with me.

The other customer was a mother with her child, who looked not more than four months old. The woman was pale with long blonde hair falling in ringlets to her waist, twirling around as she cooed to her brunette baby. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties, and though she had a baby, I could see no ring glinting on her left hand. Her cream cheese bagel lay abandoned on the table beside her, accompanied by an almost overflowing caramel-drizzled frappiccino as she lifted her son into her arms, holding on to him as if he was her only lifeline. Just like I had. Only my grip had slipped for but a moment and my lifeline was gone.

"What would you like today, deary?" Maggie asked me, a ready tablet poised in her hands.

"The usual, please," I replied, finally tearing my eyes away from the blond and her baby.

The waitress winked at me. "I'll be waiting to hear the rest of that story, Mister."

I picked up the daily newspaper that I had collected from Charlie's mailbox on the way out of the apartment, and submerged myself behind it, my eyes not seeing the words, the pictures. Maggie came back with my black coffee and set it down with a doughnut, and I reached towards it, ripping a bite off with my teeth as I stole a glance at the yellow-haired woman. She was kindly talking to the elder man the table across from her, the man whose remnants of mocha drooled down his chin. They were conversing animatedly, the green-eyed child beaming wide as he received attention from the balding man.

"Her name's Vanya, I think," Maggie mused, startling me when I realized that she had sat down with me. "Pretty name, isn't it? Calls the little one Tony Junior. So precious, he is."

"Yes," I murmured, turning back to my paper.

Maggie heaved a prodding cough. "So . . ." she trailed off, turning back to me as she fiddled with her fingers impatiently. "Gonna finish your story?"

I sighed. "Where were we?"

"Bella passed out and Renee helped you realize you were in love with your best friend. Left me hanging right at the climax," the waitress said in a patronizing tone, pretending to scold me with her eyes.

Sighing again, I laid down the paper and took another sip of the black steaming coffee, my eyes roaming the shop. "When she woke up, she eventually asked me if the reason I was being so distant was because of Renee's outburst, and I didn't respond. I mean, what was I supposed to say?" I asked, my eyes falling the pair of indigo eyes of Maggie and the even bluer burning eyes of Vanya.

"You were supposed to tell her that you loved her, damn it!" The redhead's hand slammed down on the table with her profound statement, causing me to jump. The repetitious words that I had heard a thousand times before fogged my brain, the regret again settling into my chest.

"We didn't talk after that for three days," I murmured, ignoring my fuming companion.

"Serves you right," she muttered darkly.

"Excuse me, Madame," the wrinkled man's voice called out through the morning, catching Maggie's attention. She gave me a pointed look, an I'll-Be-Coming-Back-So-Don't-You-Even-Think-About-Running-Away looks, and moseyed over to the man. Falling back into my chair, I scrunched my eyes closed, stretching my arms behind my back. My mind still hadn't wrapped itself around the fact that I wasn't in my apartment back in Cape Disappointment.

Opening my eyes, their gaze fell once again on the single parent family across the room. The child looked nothing like his mother, I noted as I briefly wondered about the father. I couldn't linger on the subject long, for the very thought of family drudged up panging memories about mine and the wish for one with my best friend. I shoved my nagging thoughts away, turning my head towards the window. Beyond the freshly cleaned glass was a busy street full to the brim of New Yorkers going about their daily business. How I wished that I could do the same and forget about all of this . . .

Standing up, I made up my mind to escape the café before Maggie could come back and prod the rest of my story out of me. I knew I was procrastinating the inevitable, because I knew I would come back tomorrow and the next day and the waitress would eventually get it out of me. Draining the remainder of my coffee in one gulp, I grabbed the once bitten doughnut and the abandoned newspaper. Taking one last swift glance – more to make sure that Maggie wouldn't drag me back in the door if she caught me rather than anything else – my eyes locked again with the cerulean eyes of the yellow-haired mother, Vanya. Her face held a shock of incredulity, her marble-like eyes wide. I blinked and turned away, walking out the door into the bright day of New York.

.:o0o:.

Hours later, the words still rang in my mind.

"You should have told her."

The monotonous day passed me by the same way it always did. I had sat for hours upon hours on the smooth ruby bench in Central Park, watching hundreds of people walk by, the occasional child talking to me before their mothers scolded them for talking to strangers. Now, walking back into Times Square, the millions of humans constantly in a rush pushed past me again and again.

It was amazing to me how many people could seem to look like her. I had mistaken close to nineteen people of being my former next-door neighbor. None of them were her. Obviously, my mind gloated.

I eventually found myself trekking up the many stairs to Charlie's penthouse, pulling the spare key out from under the welcome mat. Very original, I had snorted when Jake showed me the hiding place. Turing the knob, I meandered through the large apartment, stopping in the kitchen for a quick banana. Peeling the yellow fruit, I plopped down on a chair in the enormous parlor, swiveling around the face the TV.

I jumped out of surprise for the second time today when I found Jake standing directly in front of me, Charlie lounging in the background. They were home early – not a good sign.

"Wh-what's up?" I stuttered nervously.

Jake ran a hand through his growing hair, mimicking me when I was stressed. He took a fleeting glance at Charlie and then turned back to me. "We found a lead this afternoon –"

"You did?" I asked excitedly, sitting up in the chair.

"– and it led right out of the city," Jake finished. "We lost the scent when she got on a plane outside of Philadelphia."

My short-lived spirits plummeted down into the bottommost hole of my being as my eyes traveled to the grave-looking vampire and Jake's statement was confirmed. My gaze flickered back and forth between the two men, trying to find any miniscule detail that would contradict the gloom that was setting into my stomach, the banana falling from my fingers.

The smoke was almost in our grasp, yet it seeped through the cracks at the very last second.

She was gone. Again.

.:o0o:.

AN: So, thanks to all the reviewers and all the readers. I'm not sure when I'll update again, but I'll try to within the next week. Sorry and thanks again.

Love,

Laura