Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Information on Grace Elliot and 18th Century France came from Wikipedia…because who uses encyclopedias and reference books anymore…? (lol)

A/N: Hello, thanks for reading. I'd love some more reviews, just let me know what you're thinking. Big thank you to the reviewer who corrected my German. My dad lived there for two years--and yet I can't speak it worth anything...oh, well. Very cool country, and because I'm not very familiar with it I kept things pretty vague as far as descriptions go. Long chapter, hope you enjoy! :) **Forgot to add disclaimer for the songs used: Opticon by Orgy, and Canvas by Imogen Heap was mentioned.**

Isabella Grace

Chapter 3

Edward

I let the music permeate my body, flowing through my brain as much as through the speakers and air around me. Bobbing my head in between swigs, I shot a glance at my cell buzzing on the table. After a moment of thought I turned it off, sliding from my booth towards the rest of the crew, shouting and carrying on in some weird mixture of German and English trying to be heard over the pounding music.

Message from Opticon

Blast from the fashion bomb

So helpless

Guess what, you're out of time…

I shot a trademark smirk at Kristin, who grinned a little dazedly before shimmying over my way. Her hazel eyes had a somewhat glazed appearance, so after a few hours, a few beers, and more a few kisses, I walked her back to her apartment. After her long dark hair disappeared behind the door, I made my way to my own place and cracked open another drink. I wasn't nearly done. I couldn't stop until I stopped seeing visions of red hair and green eyes or brown hair, porcelain back, and shimmery navy blue. Fuck women.

__________________________

I'd arrived in Germany to study music, specifically composition and piano, which I'd studied some in college, but never to any serious degree. I'd been inspired months ago at the party, and later on it provided the perfect chance to flee.

Days after the party, when my life had finally rediscovered passion and I was, for lack of a better word, fluttering around home with creative energy. Sheet music was flung about my sitting room, and I was to have the piano moved into it for easier access. I came out to eat, Esme would never let anyone skip a meal.

It was during one of my "breaks" that the news came, in the form of a visitor. It was only fitting that it was pouring rain, I guess in honor of my…misfortune. I happened to be walking past the stairwell when the bell rang and my father answered, admitting a woman in her late thirties.

I'll never forget the way my heart sped up as she slid off her hood, revealing shoulder length ruby tresses. She glanced up and around, as people often did upon entering our grand foyer. My house was big and I knew it. When her eyes moved to where I stood on the banister, I saw a flash of emerald green recognition. I'd never really taken after either parent, as Alice and Emmett did. Dark hair like mom, blue eyes like dad…but not me.

Even Rosalie and Jasper fit in, blonde like my father, they blended perfectly. I always stood out like a sore thumb in public, but I'd never put much thought into it outside of Emmett's teasing. If anything, I was more spoiled—special even. Alice and I have always practically shared the same skin, but she's like that with everyone. I almost feel bad for running away like I did—but she has to understand.

There was no doubt about where things were going when Elizabeth arrived. She was coming to stake claim…my father led her silently to his private study, and I returned to my own suite, only to reemerge after 10 unproductive minutes to pace the hall and try to eavesdrop.

My attempts were useless, naturally. I didn't find out anything until after dinner, a quiet affair with Alice and Emmett moved out. My parents gave their best efforts to pretend all was well, but when dessert was brought and Mom started speaking about Christmas I snapped…

"You mean I won't be spending it with my mother…?"

Her hands started shaking and she almost upended the tea service. Setting it carefully down and glancing at my father, who seemed remarkably unshaken for a man in his position, she spoke.

"How about we move this conversation to your room, Edward? Your father and I do in fact have a lot to talk to you about, and one might say this conversation is overdue." She shot a pointed glance at my father, who finally showed a sign of distress.

We rose and walked silently to my room, me shrugging off the hands of my concerned mother and flopping into my favorite chair.

"I believe you had a visitor today, father?" I arched a brow, trying to keep my voice neutral.

He shot a glance at my mother, who shrugged then sighed. "Yes, Elizabeth and I were friends growing up in Italy. She hasn't been in the states in several years and decided to visit for old time's sake. She did not come on your behalf, if that is your worry. I'm sure you've noticed some resemblance, and—"

"Some resemblance?" I scoffed, "She's my fucking mother, isn't she?"

I remember Esme had looked like I'd thrown her a physical punch…she stood, then sat again, and stared into her lap. She started to wring her hands.

I started hesitantly, "M-mom?" I knew I'd blown it when she didn't look up. Actually, I knew I'd blown it the moment I called another woman her name. And it was hers, as sure as she'd rocked me in her arms, bandaged my scraped knees, wrapped me in a warm fluffy towel after a bath, and clapped after every recital and graduation. She finally raised her tear-stained eyes to meet mine.

"I'm sorry. I'm just upset. That was wrong on so many levels, and I know you've raised me better than that." I could never take the words back, but I tried to soothe them as best I could. Because she had raised me, raised my like her own, and did a damn good job of it.

My father gathered her closer to him and cleared his throat, "Elizabeth Masen is your biological mother, but don't you dare insult us that way. Elizabeth had her reasons, but you were as good as ours from the word 'go' and we wouldn't have it any other way. I will explain as much as I can to you when you're ready to act like an adult. Is that now, or do you need more time to calm down…?"

Ashamedly, I nodded. "Yes, please."

"As I mentioned, I knew Elizabeth a long time ago in Italy. We lived on the same street: Elizabeth, Aro, and I. For a time we were as 'thick as thieves'. Every day was a new adventure, and every new adventure brought us closer together. As far as we could tell, it didn't get any better, and we didn't want ever want things to change. Elizabeth and I kept a check on Aro, never let him go too far, reeled him in and helped him fix things before they got out of hand. But he's always been powerful, manipulative.

Power is attractive, and Aro was handsome back then. Young, dark and mysterious…it's hard to resist when someone offers you the world. Elizabeth just couldn't say no. He was harder to control, if anything. Elizabeth yielded all the time from then on, and I couldn't do it all on my own. I knew it wouldn't be long before things spiraled out of control—I was leaving soon for more studies in England and the U.S.

I spoke to Aro alone, made him swear to me on our friendship…no matter whatever else he did, he had to do right by Elizabeth. Love is blind, and I knew he'd lead her down with him. So he broke it off with her—it wasn't exactly what I meant, and Elizabeth was heartbroken. He cared though, for all his faults. He'd done it for her own good and it was painful. After that you couldn't touch the man. Ruthless, cold, scheming—heartless was what he was. Elizabeth ran away to Paris for a time, moving from this to that, shooting me letters.

She was waitressing at some café near the Eiffel Tower when she met him again. He'd been shot in an alley two blocks from her restaurant, no doubt something he deserved, but Elizabeth saw him as some wounded animal in need of love. In a way she was right, but it was too late for Aro…"

He trailed off and rubbed a hand over his weary face, and my father seemed suddenly aged beyond belief. It was easy to forget how old he was, how much he had gone through—most of which I was only now learning. I knew he didn't speak to my grandfather, and that said something in itself. I'd never even met the man.

My mother kissed his temple and he continued, refueled by her gentle show of support, "They made love in Paris, he took her to his home, and she fled, rightly disgusted by what she saw of his pursuits since they'd split. She came to me a few months later, Esme and I had been married for 6 years by then, living in New York. Emmett was 5 and Alice had just turned 2. We moved way up near Canada, announcing Esme's 'pregnancy' wasn't going well and I thought the country and some time alone would do us good for a while. No stress…but it was really about the privacy. Elizabeth really did love Aro, or at least the man Aro was in her heart--which is why she gave you up. She believed he'd turn around one day, and knew when he did he'd never forgive himself for corrupting you into a miniature version of himself. She wasn't ready to care for a child, she'd been bumping around from place to place for years and had virtually nothing to give you. She also knew I'd be able to keep you safe should Aro try and fight for you."

The tears were flowing freely down my face by now, but I let out a choked sob when I saw my father's eyes mist up. There was just something about seeing your dad cry—your hero, defender from monsters and all other peril, Mr. Fix-It, the man who carried you on his shoulders years after you were too big and his back was too old…

It took all my will power to stay on the couch and let him get through it all at once. If we stopped now, we'd never get it all out.

"He came, when you were born. I'd never seen him look that way before, and I haven't seen it since…but that evening as he leaned over your cradle, his hazel eyes were gold. He held you close, and brought you to the window, and said he'd made a promise. He would do as right as he could by Elizabeth, and he knew when he saw you that meant exactly what Elizabeth thought. But Aro always loved a challenge. Part of him was angry Elizabeth had just assumed he'd corrupt you, would turn you into him and force you down his road.

So he put you back, and his eyes glazed for a moment before returning to their marble-like swirls of brown, grey, and green. And he sought another...he made a deal with a couple who owed him money. They'd dissolved their marriage after a year and were deciding custody of their baby. Aro presented them some sort of irresistible deal, and gained sole custody of their child."

I was shocked, but more than that I mourned for the loss of an innocent. "Who was the child?" I couldn't help myself, but I had to know.

My father stiffened, then consulted my mother in wordless conversation. She looked at me with such pity for a moment, like her answer would ruin my life.

"We believe you met her at the party the other night…Isabella Grace?"

My heart was lodged in my throat, and I think a sort of garbled sound erupted from my mouth—my parents were looking concerned. I swallowed hard – No. This was worse than a made for TV movie.

When I trusted myself to speak clearly and unaffected, I responded, "Oh."

I waited another week, and then I ran…I found out before I left that Dad had only recently learned about Bella. He was extremely curious about her mysterious "coming out", she appeared aware of Aro's under the table dealings, but uninvolved. The facts of which he was certain were that prior to the past year she'd spent her entire life on Aro's main estate. Nannies were brought, tutors gave lessons, playmates were several years her elders, books and television programs were produced at her own discretion, and she maintained some minimal contact with her birth parents.

What my father failed to understand, as of yet, was her exact purpose in regards to Aro's "master plan". Beyond the proof that Aro could raise a child outside of his realm of evil, there was no justification for her presence. Her own feelings seemed to be affectionate towards him, perhaps in the way of a rebellious teen—seeking approval and reassurance, reluctantly warm, but undoubtedly loving with an undercurrent of persistent disobedience. Like she'd do as he said but she'd say her peace, and do it with her own flair, sure to annoy him. She didn't seem to fear him—perhaps because she was in league with him…?

It was a logical conclusion to come to. From what I knew of him, Aro could not be trusted to have good intentions and my attraction to Bella was probably a play into his hands.

The more I thought about the party, the more I noticed that fell right in line. She played the damsel in distress, had clearly dressed to seduce and impress, and her eyes followed mine around the room from time to time. The only other man to receive as much attention as I had was Aro, who winked at her every so often. Perhaps it was something beyond a dysfunctional parental relationship…?

I couldn't dwell on that particular theory, the violent churning of my stomach had led me to my bathroom more times than I would care to admit.

I resolved to cast the entire situation away. I would not be made a pawn of, regardless of how enchanting I found Bella to be. The best thing to do, would be to stay as far from Aro, and consequently Bella, as possible. I would not be made vulnerable to his powers of manipulation as Elizabeth did.

So I drowned myself in my studies, in bottles of this and that, pouring my angst into my music, my passion and desire translated themselves into notes and rhythms. I thought in beats, felt sounds like emotions. And at night—I lost myself amongst my friends. I refused to cross the line with women, the only ones of any real interest were ones that reminded me of her, that entity that drove my music, whose name I refused to speak out loud. That didn't stop my head, however, from thinking it…Bella, Bella Grace, Bella Grace Cullen, Bella, Bella and Edward…All day long, it was a struggle to keep her name off my books, binders, and notes. At night, she haunted my dreams until I woke sweaty and shaking, pouring drink after drink with trembling hands until I once again reached oblivion.

It was sick, I know, but that was my life—clubs, classrooms, apartment buildings scattered with dirty laundry, bottles, and music written on all exposed surfaces. Jane and Alec were a Godsend to me, during the days in Germany. Why anyone would live with someone like me, was a mystery beyond me, but Jane cleaned after classes, picked up my things, placed clean folded clothes in my drawers. Alec kept the liquor cabinet as empty as he could, organized my music into sheets when he could, hefted me up the stairs into bed…

Alice came once, and almost fainted in the doorway. She stayed for two days, but never came back. She did send cards, called me every once in a while to beg me home. I should've made a better effort when she visited—she was always up worrying before the trip, but after that she stopped.

She did send a letter towards the end of my second year abroad. When it arrived, I went straight home. Flopping onto my bed, I pressed play on whatever was in my stereo at the moment: Canvas, by Imogen Heap. Good song…

"…It's your life, Edward. You can't escape it, so even if you hide away in Germany fate is coming for you…and you know I'd tell you if it was bad. You're suffering needlessly here, and you're about to put your foot in it…

…was waiting on Jasper in the atrium. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely during the luncheon, but as she waited in the hall she looked a little tired. I plopped down next to her to wait and tried to make some small talk. We were actually getting on really well, chatting about this and that. I complimented her on her dress, it was this gorgeous green color that would've really brought out your eyes. I don't know what prompted me to say that—but she seemed to just fizzle out all of the sudden. Then she told me she'd met you at a house party once, and heard you'd been in Germany. She wanted to know if you'd been well and get this—if you and Victoria Denison had set a date for the wedding! How odd…

…Anyway, after that she started twirling a solitaire ring on her right ring finger. When she looked up, she asked me if I was sure Jasper loved me. I wasn't sure if I liked her anymore to be honest—but there was something in her face, so I answered truthfully. I said I knew—that I just knew. And she asked what he'd bought me…I'm telling you, there's something wrong with this girl. But I don't even think it's her fault. I asked her if she was spending Christmas with her family or Jacob's, and she said she didn't have any family, unless you counted Aro. Then she said she didn't want to bother Jacob at Christmas! So I invited here for Christmas, and you just have to come home this time. Mom was so upset when you didn't come last Christmas, and it was extremely rude of you to cancel last minute like that and trick us all. I…

…so I'll see you in a few weeks,

Love Alice."

I was fucked. My own sister was conspiring towards my doom. But she had a point—it was unavoidable. So I would go, and I would do my best to avoid her. I'd stay far away from her seduction attempts, far away from Aro, should he make an appearance, and even farther away from Jacob Black, whoever the hell that was. I think I remembered him from university. I spent a summer in Salamanca, Spain. It was a lovely place with a very active night life, and there was always something to do and someone important blending in among the revelry.

I'd be cold and indifferent, and I'd scare her off if I had to. I was not going down that road…