Ring of Gyges

Teeny tiny twilight

I was looking at a collection of nearly florescent electronics. I was contemplating if my contempt for them, would win over my desire to buy something easily recognizable.

Two aisles over, two fifteen-year-old girls were looking over and giggling, daring the other to come over and talk to me. I looked back for a moment, long enough to see where Alice was, but both of the girls ducked, giggling madly with the other. I sighed, feeling a vague sense of disappointment with society.

Alice was hidden behind the store rack, a bit too small to be seen from where the girls were standing. Plus, she was slouched against the wall, shaving a few extra inches off her already diminutive height.

"If you talk to him, I'll buy you the first season of Scrubs." A very tall thin one said with a playful fluttering of her eyelashes.

Her friend was not wooed. "No, House—the first season of House—and I'll talk to him," she whispered, sneaking a glance at the back of my head. God, the girl thought, Sarah is such a chicken. Why doesn't she ask him out? She probably knows him, and he has a girlfriend or something. She looked at me again, and then burst into giggles with her friend. He has to.

"We might want to leave soon," I murmured to Alice, while keeping tabs on the second girl's thoughts. I was cautious, lest she was to have a sudden rush of confidence.

"Well, I'm waiting on you," she said grumbled. The tone of bitter impatience troubled me.

Alice had been sulky all day, and became especially bad-tempered with me. Every time I asked her what was wrong though, she grumbled and distracted herself by categorizing everything she saw into a series of complex litanies . A car, for example, fell into colour, design, material, direction, and condition. The clothing of the driver fell into different categories. And not just clothes in general, oh no, no. All the unfashionable clothes were simply recognized by what year, or why they went out of style. The fashionable clothes though, had their own taxonomy! Sweaters and shirts with hoods were not even related. And belts... God, I couldn't listen to this anymore.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger. "Alice," I groaned, "have mercy."

She didn't smile at me, or do any of her other Alice-esq gestures, like playfully stick her tongue out; but she changed the direction of her thoughts to other inane, yet slightly more tolerable, paths. We were thinking about buttons now.

"The first button was made three thousand years ago," I added to her list of button trivia.

"I say it was a broach." There it was, the hint of a smile... and then it was gone again.

I frowned at her. I had asked her to come with me today, but that was to try and cheer her up. She had been so miserable looking when we were driving home, I thought that going out might help. I mean, she enjoyed shopping, and I was going into town anyway, so why not, if only to raise her spirits?

It took me a long, dense moment to finally get that she was upset with me. Only when her mood turned from glumly introspective to downright unhappy did I realize it.

Apparently the Edwardian's weren't quite as socially astute as history remembers them to be.

"Do you just want to go home?" I asked, still unsure as to why she was upset.

Alice picked up one of the shiny iPods that were secured to the table by a thick black wire. She inspected it with no real interest.

"No." Her voice was flat. She put the iPod back down in its cradle and sighed, turning away from me.

I sighed too. I had been a little excited about this trip, though I wouldn't admit to that now. I wanted to talk to someone, and Alice was the preferable candidate since she was the "sister" I felt closest to. And I wanted a woman's intuition—well, opinion—on Annabel.

Apparently, there would be no friendly chat today.

"Edward," Alice finally moaned. "God, just buy one of them, all right?"

"I'm warring," I admitted with a half smile. My obsession with electronics wasn't as pronounced as Emmett's was, but it was still there. "A good MP3 player has better sound quality than these things. All iPods are terribly crafted clumps of barely audible machinery with a brand name rich enough to convince the general public that they are pretty." I scowled at it, resisting the urge to toss it carelessly, let the heavy black cord snap it roughly back into place.

"Then why is there even a choice?" Alice asked dryly. She sounded suddenly weary, as if time had taken its toll on her.

"Well...because it looks good," I admitted sheepishly.

The girls behind the aisle caught my attention. This was why none of our family could stand being in public for any real length of time, Carlisle being the only exeption. Even Rosalie found the human devotion trying after the first few love notes.

The second girl—Ashley—had a sudden bout of confidence. "Okay, okay, I'm going to ask him," the second girl said. She took two steps, then fell into another fit of giggles and retreated again.

Alice was looking at her hands, still thinking about buttons, but now it was the buttons on Jasper's shirt, and she was getting wistful. 'Please Edward, just pick something, even if you return it tomorrow. I just want to go back home. You aren't the only one with admirers here.' She shot a look at an employee who had just tried to price check the wrong side of the package for the third time in a row. He was too busy staring at Alice to even notice.

I shot her an apologetic look over my shoulder. We'll leave soon, Alice, I promise. I thought, but of course she didn't hear me.

I knew it sounded like a petty bout of indecision, but it was actually vitally important. There would be no point in even being in Future Shop right now if not for Annabel.

I had watched her eyes light up at the look of the music player, and it had given me hope. What would her reaction be if I were to bring in my own tomorrow? If I slid it across the desk for her to search through?

My hope was that she would initiate the conversation this time. And—something I hardly dared to think about, let alone hope—was that she might point out one of my favourites and wonder about it; that she might listen to it and fall in love with it. She might look up at me with that smile, the impossibly brilliant one that I grinned at just watching from the side. What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of it?

In reality, I suppose it was such a trivial thing. It was only a song, but I felt a rush of heedy anticipation at the idea. I played the scene over and over as to what I might say—what she might say. I was thrilled by the idea of tomorrow. It was an entirely new concept for an immortal, considering our today never really ended.

I grinned, feeling the difference of a day punctuated by variation. I no longer felt like a small acorn stuck on a great oak tree—never moving, never changing, and never carrying on with life. Now I was feeling the stirrings of a slight wind, a hopefulness that something—anything—might change.

But that was ridiculous. What was she going to do, bite me and turn me human? Give me another chance at life?

Hardly.

What did a fluttering stomach mean, other than this was new, and therefore a little exciting? That the difference between her mind, and the rest of the population was both refreshing and frustrating. Or the fact that I liked to watch her face, imagining what it would be like to disappear into the darkness of her eyes? I wondered what it would be like to just crawl inside her body, to just disappear in her...

I wasn't sure if that was macabre or romantic.

I realized that I had no choice but to pick an iPod; she might not be tempted to pick up a lesser-known brand of music player. It all boiled down to aesthetic value, I realized, with a vague feeling of disillusionment I couldn't quite pin on any particular thing.

Now secure with the decision to purchase an iPod, I needed to pick a colour. Looking at the wide range of colours to select from, I realized I was sadly lacking one important piece of information. I had no clue as to her colour preference. The iPod was essentially to please her, rather than me, and I wanted her to love it. What if I bought something calm when she wanted something bright and loud? Or the opposite, and she recognized the brightly coloured metal as tacky, as I did?

God, everything was so much simpler when it was just a silver Discman.

I was leaning towards the cheerful green one, but then figured that purple was a good divide between feminine and masculine—pretty, yet neutral enough to maintain most of my dignity.

Then I caught the elegant blue one.

I couldn't help it; it looked so distinct from the others. Perhaps it was the light to blame, but the blue metal seemed dark, the colour deeper than the others. Despite the fact that Annabel was a collection of warm browns and soft creams, I thought of her. It must have been the seeming casual way it seemed to sit in the box, so conspicuous despite the fact it should blend in perfectly. I grinned and called the sales boy over, and he unlocked the drawer that guarded the cheap metal, pulling out my choice.

I sighed, relieved, and began to listen for Alice's thoughts, to pin point her in the store. There was a dark humorous tenor to her voice.

Her humour didn't quite click with me until I caught sight of the second girl striding confidently towards me, her friend trying to watch without being too obvious. I had subconsciously been trying to block out the human deluge of thought to better concentrate on the task at hand. Trying to consider what the girl could think on principal when I didn't even understand her when she was sitting right beside me, when her face was open to my scrutiny.

"Hey," she called as I froze. She had the look of someone balancing on the line between being a confident adult with the remains of childhood insecurity. I was both amused and sympathetic towards her.

"Don't I know you?" she wondered, glancing back for a second to share a smug look with her friend, who was watching with rapt attention.

I cocked an eyebrow at her, amused by the line that seemed suited to women much older than herself. Or maybe it was the suggestive way she had asked it that made the line too mature for her. "I don't think so." I chuckled, then I looked up behind her at her friend, catching her eyes.

The girl gasped as I made eye contact and quickly ducked behind the shelf, giggling. Ashley, the girl who had approached me, turned quickly to see what I was looking at. The embarrassed spiel of her thoughts, coupled with her blush, made it clear she knew I was on to them. "Oh, okay, sorry. I thought I knew you," she said quickly, retreating swiftly, backing up even as she spoke.

I chuckled, and she turned and strode quickly to duck behind the shelf with her friend where they both erupted into embarrassed giggles.

They were still poking fun at the other as Alice and I walked out of the shop with my new purchase.

The atmosphere in the car as we drove towards home was unusually quiet, almost oppressively so.

Silence usually didn't bother me. I usually searched though the world for places of silence to ease my mind. This was different from that comfortable, healing solitude. This was the atmosphere assigned to those who had done something hurtful and, usually, stupid.

I felt a sudden swell of sadness. I'm sorry, I thought in her direction. She didn't react, of course, but I hadn't expected her to. I felt my lips pulling down worriedly. What had I done to bothere Alice so much?

Alice was not at all like Rosalie, who looked for people with whom she could blow off steam. When it came to Alice, the only emotions she bottled up were the ones that might hurt someone; everything else was instantaneous and energetic. I wondered as I usually did, if this was an effect of loving an empath or if this was how she had always been.

"So, quite an eventful day," I joked. I had meant the little scene in the store, but I was reminded of the passionate way Annabel had said my name instead. I tried to subdue my grin.

"Sure was," she agreed tersely, and then turned the radio on.

I winced. This is alright, I tried to assure myself. It meant that Alice really wanted to have nothing to do with me at the moment, so it released me from the social obligation to ease the tense silence. The best thing I could do, it seemed, was to just wait until she was ready to talk. Despite this, I felt Alice's anger sit heavy in my chest, and it was hard to ignore. I hated to see her angry, even if it wasn't at me. The fact that it so obviously was frustrated me to no end. If Alice could just tell me, then I might be able to make it better.

Alice and I were regularly a team. Ever since her appearance at our house almost sixty years ago, we had been close. So much so, that I had even gone to Carlisle once while the others had been gone hunting, to ask if there was such a thing as a platonic mate. I loved Alice, but I wanted nothing romantic or sensual from her. That was for Jasper, and I felt no jealousy towards him.

Carlisle had said he'd never heard of it before, and in that, despite his tact, I had my answer: No.

The lack of a label hadn't distressed me. The fact that I had looked around to find myself alone, had.

It was only a momentary pang of loneliness. I had no face that I saw when I closed my eyes or a body I longed to hold. It was just the recognition of the empty space next to me.

Speaking of empty, was the silence getting heavier? It had taken on a slightly serrated edge, and I didn't like the way it seemed to abrade against my skin with each passing moment.

I groaned, turning the music off. "Alice, if I get any more of your cold shoulder I might actually get frost bite."

Silence.

"Or hypothermia," I grumbled.

Alice closed her eyes, concentrating on a new distraction.

Ninety degrees, by thirty three degrees...

She was taking the angles of random objects, and then using the measurements to locate various places across the globe, taking the language from that area and translating various poems, songs—anything—into that language. She had to continually keep changing what she translated to keep her mind occupied, because so many places spoke either English or French. Plus she kept hitting the ocean with an almost uncanny accuracy.

Underneath this though, I was catching repetition. 'Don't say it. You'll hurt him. Don't say it. You'll hurt him. Don't say...'

I stayed silent, listening to this and worrying.

And trying to find something to fill the silence. She did not want to talk about it, and I could respect that. Would conversation harm her though? Maybe if she relaxed into a conversation, she might open up.

I had all the intention of putting out a neutral, yet not a blatantly obvious distraction. Something about Esme's new house renovation, or the hopeless way Rose was throwing out subtle hints that Emmett wasn't picking up about a necklace and Valentine's Day this year. Hint-hint, nudge-nudge.

"So, what do you think of Annabel? She's not what I expected."

I had thought this was a pretty safe conversation and it would help fill the raging curiosity. Not that Alice could give me any more information than I already knew, but it seemed to scratch the itch. I was finding that all other topics were beginning to pale in comparison to her. I felt a dull, itching boredom that I could not free myself of if I wasn't talking about, or contemplating her. Though watching her through the minds of the others was usually enough to keep me happily occupied. Seeing her through their minds made it clear they had a less intense obsessession than I.

"What do I think?" Alice exploded, turning to stare at me. She finally met my eyes for more than a few seconds since school had ended. They burned with the fury she had been suppressing until now.

I winced, but I felt almost...relieved. The silence disappeared to be replaced with the heat of her anger, but the storm was welcome. I knew, like all storms, that it would pass, and then I could pick up after the wreckage. I could fix it.

"What I think is that I'm tired of watching you kill her. I'm tired of seeing that look on your face after you drop her body, and I am so damn tired of seeing all these what ifs." Alice's small hands were crossed tightly over her chest, fists shaking against her ribs.

At first, I couldn't understand why the idea of the death of just another human would bother her so much. She saw Jasper kill someone biweekly. At that thought, a great tide of shame rolled over me, and I was horrified with myself. Why shouldn't it upset her? This was a human life, and if we couldn't pull the significance of that from the statistic, we were merely a band of hypocrites impersonating the resolve of compassion. I was instantly sickened with myself.

I took the last hairpin turn and came up onto a great white house, almost perfeclty similar to all our other great white houses. The lights were on, but I didn't feel the warmth of invitation looking at it. It was Alice, though, who held my attention.

Her visions were spinning madly before her eyes. In more than half of them, I was standing above Annabel with red eyes, my face blank with shock before breaking into a strange look, almost empty, but filled with such a staggering degree of loss, that it couldn't just be the girl. The expression was so strange, I couldn't pin an emotion to it. They played out in the classroom with carnage around us, as if I had walked into a murder scene. In an alley as black as the moonless sky above us. In an unfamiliar place I had never been before, though it must have been an apartment I had never visited.

The last one haunted me most, because I was almost sure that this was her home that I had followed her to. How many times had I imagined following her home, not to hurt her, but to learn more about her? The was the home where I followed her?

It was impossibly painful to watch the way she fell limply to the floor, pale as death, her eyes still open. It horrified me to think that my face was the last thing she would have seen. There was nothing of her smile there. No fear, either.

She was gone.

"Ah," I managed, but it wasn't a sound of understanding. It was a groan of agony as painful as her scent, but this torture flared deeper than my throat. It chewed and smouldered around my lungs, turning my stomach. I could only imagine how the addition of her sweet blood would feel in combination with this feeling. The sweetness, the sickness, and the pain... I might as well be rotting from the inside out.

Alice started getting out of the car, calm now, though I heard the toneless defeat through her thoughts. 'Kill her or don't, but I don't want to see it anymore.'

She got out of the car, letting me chew over her words and her visions. I turned the car off, but didn't move to get out. I didn't want to go into the house with her.

It took me a second to realize my lethargy had nothing to do with seeing Alice again before she completely calmed down, or the eyes of our family who had heard most of her accusations.

I did not even feel the nervous, churning desire to melt into the woods to hunt before tomorrow. The only responsible precaution I seemed to even have the pretence of. It wouldn't stave off the thirst for tomorrow, but it made me feel like I had even the barest amount of control. If I hunted, I imagined I would have just one more inch of control. Only an inch, but that inch might be enough to save her life.

It was all in my imagination, craving for control which I wouldn't find inside my own skin and muscle.

The iPod, and the impossible, fantastic scenarios I had spun around it, for which I had been so excited about before, were suddenly disgusting to me. I threw it into the backseat angrily. What right did I have to endanger her for only the want of excitement? Was I really so egoistic a creature to imagine my amusement trumped life? Even a prostitute's life was worth more than this game.

Plato's tale of the Ring of Gyges became tangled up in my thoughts. The man who found a ring that would make him invisible—absolutely free from consequence—had disregarded virtue and goodness for what he wanted.

I had no such ring, but I knew I could disappear just as easily. When someone was that self-seeking, and given the opportunity, was there anything that would stop that person from taking what they wanted, everyone else be damned? I knew my track record, and I was sure that spoke louder than any allegory on the planet. Nothing had stopped me from killing all those people so many years ago, not even Carlisle. Why should this be different?

I ran my hands through my hair, and then let them drop back into my lap as I stared up at the roof of the car. It wasn't even six o'clock yet and it was already dark. I imagined that I could see through the roof, see all the stars in the sky in that wide expanse of black. Too wide, it seemed, for this earth.

I was thinking about stars when I pushed my key back into the ignition.

I'm not sure how long I had sat in my car thinking, but I heard Alice, no longer angry, but horrified with herself. 'No, Edward, I didn't mean it!'

I sped up and left her voice behind, following the path of the stars across the sky.

Who needs a ring?

"ID."

I blinked, partially amused at the large man standing in front of the door I sought entrance to.

I had thought this town was too derelict to even have the thought of a bouncer, but I seemed to have been mistaken.

The man watched me with hazel eyes that were more brown than green, and thick, black brows that crawled across his forehead. They gave his face the unfortunate resemblance of a Neanderthal. Despite this, his eyes had the air of experience. He couldn't be older than thirty, and yet he had three scars on his left arm alone.

I watched him silently, deciding how stubborn he was going to be. As if he knew I was sizing him up, he crossed his large arms in a way that was obviously supposed to be menacing. I smiled.

I wasn't twenty-one. I would never be twenty-one, and I had nothing saying I was twenty-one. I had nothing in the way of plastic to show him. Not a recent enough one, at least. Jasper was getting new ones for us at the moment. I had the feeling I would be back again after tonight. It wouldn't do to show him two different looking ID s, now would it?

If worse came to worst, and he couldn't be bribed, I would find another way in. Well, I thought with weary sarcasm, it wouldn't be much of a night if I didn't knock down a few walls. Not that I really would. I could only imagine Esme's face if I ever confessed to that.

"Insurance Card, Driver's License, senior citizens card—whatever—but I need an ID to let you in," he grunted at me, his voice gravelly.

I didn't have ID, but I did have something just as good.

I pulled out my wallet.

I let my lips slide into an easy I-wont-tell-if-you-don't smile, maintaining eye contact. This was an expression I had perfected over my many years of bribery. The corners of my mouth lifted a little so as not to look too cocky, but to soften my face enough to make myself less intimidating. My head bowed to make them lean into me a little to catch the low words I would say.

"What if we happened to strike a deal?"

He looked interested, one of his thick eyebrows cocking up at me.

I felt my smile turn into something a little darker, and then the wind changed, and my throat tightened around the sudden flame.

I already knew the voice before she spoke.

"The hell is going on here?"

We both straightened, though I managed to look vastly less guilty, even as I inconspicuously slid my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. "Why, hello." I took one look at her, and then I was laughing.

Annabel—no, she was Chime here—had her arms crossed tightly across her chest, glaring furiously between the Neanderthal and myself. The large man, standing behind me now since I had turned to face Chime wholly, was uncomfortable with her anger. He had been hoping to ask her for a favour tonight, but he was beginning to think better of it. I didn't delve to deeply, I didn't want specifics.

Actually, though I had held no real quarrel with him—nothing to make me dislike him specifically—I suddenly hated him. Enough that I tasted something metallic on my tongue, and that my throat felt tight. The image of my accidentally falling backwards into him and putting my elbow through his skull became enormously entertaining. I grinned.

Chime stormed up the steps in a red uniform with the local Food 4 less grocery store logo written across her left breast and grabbed a handful of my sleeve, not actually touching my skin.

I felt a vague sense of disappointment at this. I could feel my mood lightening, the darkness of a few moments ago gaining a blithe edge now that I was beside her. I didn't breathe yet, not wanting to taint the moment quite so soon.

She turned us so we were facing the last of the Homo sapiens neanderthalensis species. "Were you going to let his kid in, Greg?" Her voice was furious, though she was trying very hard to control it through clenched teeth.

His thoughts contradicted her immediately. Adam, he thought in a knee jerk reaction, but he was not upset with her slip, and I wondered why. "Looking for ID, actually. He a friend of yours?"

Chime and I looked at each other, me looking for her to either agree or disagree, while she studied me with a suddenly calculating look. She quickly looked back at Adam. Without her eyes, I was robbed of the only glance I had into her mind, no matter how opaque it was.

I watched the side of her face, and perhaps it was because I only had a partial view, but her anger seemed to have drained into a firm seriousness.

"Take a good look at him," she said suddenly, her voice much more calm.

Adam looked, but only to let her know he was taking this seriously. I'm not going to forget a kid who looks like this, he thought, but he categorized my features. Apparently, I have Irish hair.

"I don't care if he shows you a card tomorrow that says he's eighteen, or twenty-one, or thirty-five. He. Is. Seventeen." She enunciated the words distinctly in a clipped voice, turning my age into two distinct words.

She turned to look at me now, her eyes blazing with the fury she was unsuccessfully trying to contain. Her eyes showed everything, I realized with a sense of awe.

"And if I catch him in the bar, or anywhere around here, I will, legitimately, kick his ass." She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing the exposed skin.

I burst into laughter again.

It wasn't because of the way she had poked the air with an invisible pin when she had said legitimately, or even that she had said it at all, thrown haphazardly into the sentence like that. Oh no, no. It had been the absolutely serious way she had threatened me.

"Hey, I really wouldn't," Adam said in a suddenly careful voice, as if we were talking around a sleeping bear rather than a riled kitten. He looked at Chime, who did not look impressed. 'This sure as hell isn't helping her Monday mood.' He watched her shiver once as a strong wind cracked at his coat.

This Monday mood he thought about interested me greatly. I couldn't very well ask him about it, though. So when Chime made to drag me away down the steps to the sidewalk, I let her.

"Come here," she growled, taking back the fisted sleeve she had dropped while she had been gesturing in her speech. I let her pull me down the stairs, still chuckling, though slowly regaining my composure.

She pulled me to the corner of the building, giving us some privacy beside an ally where an old green car was parked. She turned, took two deep breaths, and then levelled a completely calm look at me.

I felt a brief bout of disappointment at his. Let me see you. I recognized my obsession with her anger had less to do with the emotion itself, and more with the loss of control over her careful mask. I liked seeing her eyes flash with something that was hot and strong, and though I knew almost nothing of her, I thought it was the barest hint of her soul rising in a fit of passion to face me head on.

God, had I always been this impractically romantic? I considered the fitful obsessing I had been doing all day, and figured that this might just be an extension of that.

"Edward," the carefully masked Annabel asked, "are we friends?"

I balked. "If this is about the promise—"

"Are we friends, yes or no?" Then she laughed quietly at my troubled expression, because, well, no, we weren't really friends. She was still smiling even as I tried rolling around tactful words on my tongue like, acquaintance and contact.

"Look," she said after a second of my pained silence, and I found myself smiling sheepishly along with the amusement in her voice. "I won't cry if you say no. I have a strict no stalking policy, too, if that makes you feel any better." She winked playfully.

"Much." I tried to imagine what it would be like if Chime stalked me.

The idea was appealing.

I considered her again as I pulled in a painful breath of air. Somewhere on a faint horizon—east of here—I remembered that there was anger and sadness, and a distrust that stripped me of my confidence. Here, though, I was happy. And so maybe that was why all the carefully thought out words I had been rolling around in my mouth before were forgotten.

"Friends is...apt, I suppose," I said easily, then smiled as if it meant nothing to me that she could sew strange words onto my tongue. The hair on the back of my neck was standing on end in an unfamiliar way.

She tried to smile. "I dragged that out of you, didn't I?"

"No," I assured her. Actually, I had hesitated because it suddenly seemed far too broad. I wanted something narrower, I supposed, like good friend, or, I don't know, boyfriend.

I tried to imagine that and failed. There was nothing about me that could possibly appeal to her. Not in this life, anyway. I could settle for lover, though. I had the proper equipment for that.

Her lips pulled up again, though this time into only a semblance of a smile. Her eyes carried a deep line of concern. "Then as one friend to another, Edward, please, don't come back."

I chuckled at her, though I lingered on her pleading expression, the liquescent, churning of concern in her eyes. "Actually, Chime, friends invitefriends back."

She glanced to her left and then down at her feet. A faint breeze brushed against my back, and I realized that if I stood a little closer to her, I would be able to shelter her from the wind.

But that would be no good, because it would also give me the proximity I needed to lift her chin with my finger, to find those eyes that shifted through so many emotions. They were sad now, I was sure. The thought alone was almost enough to propel me forward. For what, I had no clue. I could be no sense of comfort for her. It was almost as impossible as the thought of her belonging to me.

"I'm not joking. Please, Edward,just listen." She hesitated, not looking up at me, though I could see her eyebrows come together, as if there was something very perplexing at our feet. "I didn't have any friends to stand in my way when I started to slide. And I don't know, maybe this isn't the same, but I promise you, this is not what you want."

"How do you know?" I challenged, though my voice was curious rather than defiant.

Her eyes snapped up, staring into my eyes with her own stubbornness as she steadied her stance. Her chin raised fractionally, shoulder's squaring. She looked for all the world like she was actually intending to keep me from going any further, as if this petite figure might just physically wrestle me back into my car.

I wanted to laugh, but instead I felt a growing awe for her.

Brave.

The word came out of nowhere but was perfectly fitting in this moment. I saw it in the fierce protective light in her eyes. It was the kind of intensity that was rare in humans, who were much more comfortable spending their days in light moods, because every great height of happiness came with a tall fall.

Her mouth suddenly started making a strange fast click-click-clicking noise muffled slightly by her lips. I took in her arms crossed tightly against her chest, her cheeks whipped red by the wind, and realized the strange clicking was her teeth.

"Edward, for the love of God, go home before I lose a toe."

I stared at her. "Why are you wearing a t-shirt in January?" I shrugged out of my coat.

"Why are you still here?" The wind snapped at her, and she muttered a low curse under her breath. It was strange, but the foul word shocked me. Intellectually, I knew that she was in no way innocent, but looking at her blush, I would have easily believed her virtuous. I suddenly wondered how she got here, to this terrible place.

My arm was extended with the coat, but she didn't look like she was going to take it. I wondered how warm my car was, and then remembered something. "Oh! I have something for you." I folded my coat over my arm in case she decided she wanted it in a moment.

She glared. "Go away." She was outright shivering now, and I was more desperate to get her warm than anything else.

I chuckled, nervously watching her frame shake. "I'm serious, it's in my car."

"I'm sure. Believe it or not, I've heard this line before."

"Which is, by the way, toasty warm." I continued, ignoring her with a grin. My teeth were clenched behind the smile, the idea knocking the virtuous blushing girl out of my head. Prostitute, I thought scornfully.

The temperature of the car was a lie, but I was sure with the heat cranked it would warm up quickly enough. I imagined her scent circulating through the vents, clinging to the material stubbornly, and then shuddered at the thought.

But if I could get her warm, maybe she wouldn't be so angry. Maybe I could ease her, tell her what I wanted to say, and see how she reacted to the proposition.

She gave me a withering look. I sighed, and walked back to my car myself to quickly grab the iPod from the backseat where I had carelessly tossed it, too angry and hurt to care about the damage I might cause the thing. When I turned, she was starting towards the building with all its promised warmth fogging the windows. There were more people coming now, barely legal kids getting a cheap drink at a cheap bar.

She turned back for a second to make sure I was, in fact, leaving as she had supposed.

I smiled wanly at her, the iPod I had spent more time considering for her than myself, but not solely because I wanted her attention. I realized now, it had been for her the entire time. I watched her from my car, wondering if she would believe that I hadn't come tonight to pick her up. I had wanted to see her, yes; I had wanted to take her somewhere, a restaurant perhaps, to apologize for my lewd behaviour last week. Though, considering her now, I would probably take her again, if I had been given the chance, the foul creature that I was.

I knew I had come looking for something specific, though, and it went past all of these surface wants. I think I just wanted to see her, I realized, as I sat in the driver's seat. I had just wanted to be sure she was whole and real in this strange world where someone like she and I could exist at once.

What a strange phenomenon.

I took one last look at her in her bright red uniform—startling against the dull weather worn brick and black sky—to ground myself again, and then pulled away from the curb and headed east.