Chapter 6: A World I Wish I Was In
A/N: Do me a favor and come at all these characters with an open mind. Team Jasper, mind the A/N at the end.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
"I looked into your eyes and saw
a world that does not exist
I looked into your eyes and saw
A world I wish I was in
I'll never find some quite as touched as you
I'll never love some quite the way
that I loved you,"
- Touched, Vast
EPOV
"Edward! Hey, Edward!"
I came to a halt and turned toward the sound of the quick footfalls that were echoing through the halls. That was one of the things about museums. It didn't matter how many things you packed in them, they always echoed.
Especially when someone was running. "Slow down, Seth. Jeez, you're worse than the kids that come in here," I chuckled as my co-worker, fellow museum docent Seth Clearwater, skidded to a stop, a sheepish expression on his face. As docents at Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture in Seattle, we were both used to telling the kids that came through here on school trips not to run around the priceless and delicate artifacts that surrounded us. "What's up?"
"You're wanted upstairs," Seth said, a little grandly.
I raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Mr. Scarpinato's office?"
Seth nodded eagerly and I had to work not to smile at his somewhat awed expression. The kid had only started working here a month ago and I'd be blind not to see that he idolized me. I had covered for him on a potentially huge mess that could have cost him his job fairly early on and since then he had followed me around like a puppy. He was a good kid, so I didn't mind at all, but he also thought I could do no wrong.
I don't care how secure or good you are at your job, getting called into the big boss' office was terrifying. It wasn't always a good thing. "I have a group coming in at ten," I hedged, though I knew that Seth was just the messenger.
The boy shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. "No. He told me to take them. You're to report upstairs to him a.s.a.p."
I sighed and nodded, feeling my throat tighten a bit in trepidation. Aro Scarpinato was the museum's director and he was a tough one to get a read on. I was typically good at figuring people out but he was a little all over the place. When he was talking about the collections or exhibits here at the museum, or ones that he was interested in obtaining, his face would light up just like a child who'd discovered something new. He loved most every artifact in the entire museum, and the story that it told, almost as much as he adored his children. On the other hand, he could be borderline ruthless when it came to obtaining the pieces he wanted for his museum.
I was good at my job and I enjoyed the work. Aro had found me after noticing how many of the museums lectures I attended. When I had been able to keep up with him in discussing the exhibits, he'd been impressed. He offered me a job in the museum's store promising that I could work my way up. That was five years ago when I was twenty. While I didn't think I'd done anything that would - how did he usually put it - disappoint him, one could never tell with Aro.
"Mr. Scarpinato? You asked to see me?" I asked, knocking on his open door to get his attention.
He looked up and grinned at me. Well, that was a good sign.
Man, his grin is beyond creepy.
"Edward, my boy. You can drop the Mr. Scarpinato business. I don't know how many times I have to tell you," he said excitedly.
He pushed his chair back and stood, brushing past me and back out into the hallway. "Come with me. I have something to show you."
I followed obediently, letting some of my anxiety ease. It couldn't possibly be bad if he was this giddy about something.
"Was it not a lecture about Greek history where I first found you?" Aro mused aloud as we walked.
I nodded slowly. "Greek mythology is actually my primary interest. My specialty, I suppose," I said easily. "To understand a religion, understanding history is important. At least in my belief."
"It's an excellent rule of thumb, I would say," Aro agreed. "I have many interests, but I think you'll agree when I say the Greeks never fail to fascinate."
I nodded my enthusiastic agreement.
We had arrived at what I knew to be the warehouse - a large room that was kept cool to help preserve all the artifacts that were either not suitable or not yet ready to be displayed. I gave Aro a surprised look as docents were not typically invited back into this space. By his answering smile, he knew just what an honor he was bestowing on me.
I followed Aro to where a few crates were resting unobtrusively off to one side. Aro opened one of the crates and then opened the foam packed container the crate held. Inside that container were a number of ancient artifacts - dishes. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
"Oh my God," I exclaimed, unable to keep in my response. "These are amazing. This collection...I know of it." I stared up at Aro. "This is the collection that was dug up only a few years ago. These pieces are estimated to be from about 400 to 300 B.C." I said, though I knew that Aro had to know that. "Almost every museum in the world was bidding on these."
Aro's smile looked gleeful, almost like a child who'd gotten away with something big. "Yes, well, when I want something I know how to get it, my boy. You'll come to find that out."
"I believe you," I murmured, my eyes wandering over the truly stunning pieces in front of me. I'd often thought that it was lucky that Aro's interests ran to historical artifacts. If he collected talented people say, he would have all the makings of an evil mastermind.
Handing me a box with prophylactic gloves, Aro put his own on as his hands danced over the artifacts, deciding which one to pick up first. He finally decided on a vase from the padding and turned it carefully in his hands. Three figures could be made out quite clearly. "Now," Aro said, "Can you identify these figures?"
I glanced at him once before leaning forward, studying the beautiful piece for just a moment before I spoke. "The one here with the bull's feet is Dionysus," I identified the god of wine who, incidentally and amusingly to me, was also the god of ecstasy and incited madness. I suppose I could see how those three could relate. I pointed to the other, male figure. "Pan, the lecherous god of shepherds," I said, amused again. "Which would make this Echo," I pointed to the hooded nymph that faced them. "She is drawn with a hood frequently and often associated with Pan."
Aro grinned, nodding his approval. "Very good. Very good indeed." He pointed his chin at a plate with other figures on it. "Go ahead, you can pick it up."
Lifting the dish carefully, I looked at the faded images with a small, wistful smile. "Eris and the golden apple of discord," I whispered simply. My heart lurched painfully in my chest as I recounted the same myth that I'd told Bella years before.
As I settled the dish back into its foam resting place, Aro looked pleased. "Your powers of retention are truly astounding, Edward." He closed the case and locked it carefully before ushering me back out of the warehouse.
"I'm thinking of a new exhibit," Aro began as we walked back toward his office. "The center, of course, would be those wonderful artifacts, but you know we also have those Norse pieces."
"Mythology in art and artifacts?" I asked.
"Something to that effect. Edward," he said, stopping outside of his office to put his hands on my shoulders. I waited. "I want you to be curator over this exhibit."
I know for a fact that my eyes bulged out of my head for a minute before I contained the giddy school boy within. Aro caught it though and he laughed quietly. "I'll take that as a yes then."
When I got out of work that day I was still riding a high. I'd spent the day with Aro discussing and making plans for the new exhibit. It had been a long time since I'd been this excited about something. This was big deal in the museum world. Definitely something to celebrate.
To that end, I turned the opposite direction of my apartment.
There was a bar and restaurant a few blocks down that had fantastic food. Cooking for one was a pain, so I ate there or got my meal to go fairly frequently.
"Hey, Edward," my favorite bartender, Brandy, greeted me as I walked in the door. "Eating in or out today?"
"Out," I replied, hopping up on the barstool.
"What'll it be?" she asked, setting a glass of cherry flavored sprite in front of me.
"Whatever the chef has on special is fine. Oh, and desert too. Your cheesecake is delicious," I said, patting my stomach already in anticipation.
Brandy raised an amused eyebrow at me. "Celebrating?"
"Yes, actually. I got a promotion. Curator," I said, letting my grin spread over my face.
"Well, that is truly excellent! Congratulations." She smiled at me. "What are you ordering in for? You should go out."
My smile faltered. "Brandy," I said warningly.
She sighed but put a hand up in a surrendering motion. "I know, I know. You're just such a recluse. Don't you have friends who'll go out and celebrate with you?"
I frowned at her. "I have friends. Just, their idea of celebrating would include a lot of alcohol. You know that's not my scene." I took a swig of the delicious cherry sprite, staring at her over the glass pointedly.
She smiled. "You could even stay here. You know, it's open mic night. That's either really great or really, really hilarious," she said, gesturing with her chin to the small stage off to the left of the bar.
I grimaced. "If I wanted to watch people butcher music I'd watch High School Musical."
Brandy pretended to gasp in surprise. "You know you harbor a secret love for the Zefron. I think you don't go out because you're saving yourself for him. That's my theory anyway."
Suppressing a shudder, I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, that must be it."
"You liked '17 Again'," she said in a taunting voice causing me to do a spit take all over the bar.
She giggled, cleaning up my mess as I coughed and sputtered. "First of all, I liked '17 Again' because Thomas Lennon is a comic genius. He's the only reason I saw the movie in the first place. Secondly, you promised never to mention that," I growled, leaning close and speaking as lowly as possible.
"No one heard me," she said, rolling her eyes a little. "Bartender code. What's said at my bar, stays at my bar." She plopped a handful of cherries in my drink – a silent apology.
She knew my weakness. I loved those little cherries.
I plucked one up out of the glass and popped it in my mouth, savoring the syrupy sweetness. "Besides, I'm too keyed up to go out. I have an exhibit to plan. Someone has to figure out how the exhibit walks."
Brandy stood with her hands on her hips, staring at me with a wry look. "Sounds fascinating." She leaned on the bar to get in my face. "You're an intelligent, attractive, occasionally funny man, E. You need a social life."
"I don't have time for a social life," I said flippantly. "Do you know how many things there are to know about this world? I mean, what I do is fascinating."
"You know, that boss of yours somehow manages his work and he has a wife and kids," she pointed out.
I rolled my eyes. "Doesn't count. He has twins. For all you know they had sex just the once and she probably had to jump him. Actually, that would explain a lot. His wife, Sulpicia, is an ice queen. She's not very nice."
Brandy chuckled. "Ever the gentleman. That's Edward code for she's a raving bitch."
"Yeah, well, you said it. I didn't."
A few minutes later, Brandy came out of the back carrying two bags. I eyed her questioningly. "These are on the house," she said, settling the bags on the bar in front of me. "Providing that you find someone to share them with."
"You're a pushy brat, you know that?" I snapped.
She grinned. "I know. You're welcome, and congratulations."
She walked off without another word to take an order at the other end of the bar while I scowled at the two bags.
Then I sighed, giving in. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I fired off a quick text message before grabbing both bags and heading outside.
A half an hour later I was sitting on the balcony of my apartment looking out over the city, thoroughly immersed in a beautiful fantasy.
Any psychologist would have had a field day with me, but the truth of the matter was that I was as adjusted as I was ever going to be.
The trouble with my situation was that it was impossible to explain to anyone. I had tried only once with my parents the day they found me in California. Though they had helped me look for Bella, I knew that they had never truly understood what I lost the day she died. They attributed my connection to her - this girl I didn't really even know - to the trauma of going through a disaster.
I mourned her alone, because literally no one, at least no one I could find anyway, knew what the world had lost that day. There was no one to reminisce with even – those small comforts that people found when a loved one died. And I couldn't explain it rationally, so I stopped trying.
After my parents, I'd only ever told one person about Bella.
All those things that people said about the hurt getting better with time were liars. The pain of losing her, of losing a future that I'd held in my hands for minutes, never lessened. I certainly didn't get over it and, if you wanted the honest truth about it, I didn't want to get over it. I hadn't ever had a girlfriend, nor did I have any desire to look for one. I threw myself into my studies, and after I found a job at the museum, I'd thrown myself into the work.
For all intents and purposes, I was happy.
I sighed softly to myself, slipping my hand in the pocket of the coat I wore. My fingers closed around the familiar object I'd been carrying around all day. I took it out, staring at it as if it held any more answers than it had the last six years.
I carried around Bella's mother's watch on special occasions. The anniversary of the day we met, the day she died, on days when I needed to feel closer to her, like my birthday, and every day from August 23 to September 22.
Bella had mentioned she was a Virgo, but we'd never talked about her actual birth date, so I carried the watch every day during that time. It was September 5th now. I was glad I had it on me today of all days.
Maybe it was pathetic, but I always imagined what it would be like if Bella was here, celebrating all the important moments of my life with me. My fantasies were so detailed that after Aro had let me out of his office, my first thought was that I wished I could call her and tell her the good news.
Even after all this time, even though I knew it was faintly ridiculous, Bella was still the one I wanted to share my life with. If I couldn't have her, and obviously I couldn't, I wasn't delusional, I was honestly not interested in sharing it with anyone else. It was a decision I'd made a long time ago and I was at peace with it. I wasn't lonely, or sad. I didn't wish I had someone to celebrate with – just her. Always her.
Not even my parents knew about my daydreams. They would want to fix me. I didn't want to be fixed. I was happy the way I was. There was nothing wrong with being a permanent bachelor, and there was plenty else in the world to think about and learn about besides having a relationship.
Still, I was a human male and all my parts worked just fine. College had proved impossible to get through without girls, and a smattering of boys for that matter, throwing themselves at me. Which wasn't me being a snob or anything - sex was just a constant presence.
I had some sex. It was all empty. Meaningless. Just a release.
Some of the girls had been really sweet and smart. We had some good conversations, even some good times. It never really went further than that though.
Eventually, the casual sex thing got complicated. Though I was always clear with what I wanted, some of my partners said they were on the same page when they actually wanted different things. Never one who enjoyed making girls cry, I just started avoiding the sexual side of my nature altogether.
I started to attend extra lectures instead of going to parties. I spent as much time as possible just absorbing the fascinating world around me.
The day Aro offered me a job at the museum, I'd gone to a nearby park after we finished talking. I was sitting on a picnic table carefully tossing Bella's mother's watch from hand to hand and having the most ridiculous daydreams of her squeal of delight when I told her about the job. I imagined her arms around my neck and the kisses she would rain on my face.
The ever present feeling of loss was bad that day and I suppose my face reflected the dull ache that radiated in my chest. Still, I was more than a little surprised when the wood I was sitting on shifted under the weight of another body.
I looked up to find a gorgeous, leggy, strawberry-blond sitting next to me on the table and smiling this half seductive, half sympathetic smile. Looking back, the coquettish expression on her face was just what she was used to – how she was used to speaking to men. At the time it made me cringe inwardly.
"You are sad," the blond observed in a thick, Russian accent. "It is a lovely day. You are a nice looking man. You should not be sad."
Despite the lilt in her voice I could see she was being earnest in her want to comfort me and that disarmed me somewhat. "Nice looks are, unfortunately, not a cure for sadness."
She surprised me by laughing, a full bodied laugh that that echoed with the richness of her voice. "Tell me something I don't know." She shook her head. "My name is Tanya, by the way. Tanya Ivanov."
"Edward Cullen," I returned, not for the first time feeling a tiny tinge of bitterness that it couldn't have been so easy with Bella. I smiled softly and continued staring down at the watch in my hands.
Tanya was silent for a few moments. "That is a woman's watch."
I nodded but didn't offer any other explanation.
When I chanced a look over, Tanya had tilted her head and was studying me with a curious expression. "I am a good listener," she said easily. "Sometimes it is good to talk."
I don't know what it was. Maybe I had just held the secret for too long and I wanted it to come out. Maybe it was because I missed Bella too much in that moment and I needed to talk to someone. Whatever it was, I told Tanya about Bella. I told her everything about that day, how we'd met, what it felt like. I told her about the fantasies.
Tanya didn't think it was pathetic. Instead of telling me how I needed to move on or needed to let go, she pulled a chain from around her neck. At the end of the gold chain was a thick looking ring.
She told me a story of how her father had left her mother when he found out she was pregnant. Tanya had been born to Sasha, and the first fourteen years of her life it was just the two of them. Then Sasha had given birth to twin girls, Irina and Katrina. Their father hadn't stuck around either and Tanya had always been more like a second mother to the twins than a big sister.
Then, when the twins were two, Sasha became pregnant again. The man she was with at the time, Felix, was not at all pleased and demanded she get an abortion. Sasha refused and gave birth to a boy she named Vasilli. When the baby was three months old, Felix had killed both the boy and Sasha.
Tanya, Irina and Katrina were sent here to Seattle where her distant relatives Carmen and Eleazar lived. Tanya had helped raise Irina and Katrina for the last ten years.
She said that, just as I talked to Bella, she talked to her mother every day – especially when Irina or Katrina were being difficult. When she'd graduated from college a few years previous, she imagined that her mother was in the audience with a proud smile on her face.
Like me, she had no interested in dating. To her, men could not be trusted, and how could anyone blame her for her opinion? She admitted to me that she pursued men, but only for mutual pleasure. She was only with men she could dominate.
Except for me.
We were equals. That was the nice part of the arrangement. With each other we knew we could let our guard down and be ourselves. We were both young, and though neither of us had any desire to be tied down to another person, we still had all the normal, physical urges. So, whenever either of us had the inkling, we gave into those urges.
It was nice. Good. Fun, even. She knew how to make me feel good and had always praised my performance highly. We brought each other pleasure and physical release and never expected anything of each other besides that.
So, about forty-five minutes after I'd texted her, my daydreams about Bella were interrupted by Tanya's knock on my door.
I greeted her with a hug and she kissed my cheeks in return. Over the dinner I'd kept warm in the oven, I told her about the new job. Tanya was excited for me, and that was nice too.
After we'd polished off the generous portions of cheesecake, Tanya came to my side of the table and straddled me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me without preamble. Her mouth was sweet from the cheesecake and she smelled pleasantly of whatever perfume she wore.
I let myself get lost in the sensations, just like she did. I never thought about Bella when Tanya and I were together. Even though I'd never gotten the chance to make love to Bella, I knew that it wouldn't have been the same. Tanya and I were no more than good friends with benefits, but no one deserved to be compared to another woman while in bed with a man.
It was nice. She made me feel good and I returned the favor.
The next morning I woke before her. Neither of us ever felt the need to snuggle, though we both enjoyed the feeling of a warm body beside us in bed every now and again. I lay on my back, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling and appreciating Tanya's presence in my life. It was a relief to be around someone who understood me, even just a little.
A short while later, Tanya woke. She shifted and stretched, tossing me a genuine smile as she settled on her back, blinking sleepily in the early morning light.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice scratchy from sleep.
"Good morning," I greeted back. We sat in silence, both lost in our own individual thoughts.
When I looked over at her again the expression on her face was a little too deep for a Saturday morning.
"Hey, T. What are you thinking about?" I asked, rolling onto my side. I automatically started scanning our conversations the previous night, trying to figure out if there was something I'd missed. I'd been so wrapped up in my own news that I didn't know how her day had gone – or her month for that matter. Before last night, I hadn't seen her for a little over a month.
She sighed softly. "Please don't take this the wrong way. I am asking, how would you say, rhetorically. Have you ever thought about...trying to make this an 'us'?"
I blinked, covering my immediate response to recoil. This was Tanya. I knew her moods and reasoning almost as well as I knew my own.
So, I considered her question, looking for an honest answer. "Sometimes I wish I could think about it."
"But?" she prompted when I didn't immediately go on.
"It wouldn't be fair, Tanya. I care for you, certainly, but I don't know that I have the capacity to fall in love with anyone again," I answered truthfully.
Tanya considered this. "You know, most would tell you that is a coward's way out. And that you are incorrect. We're all capable of healing." She sounded almost hopeful, as if she were not talking about me. Suddenly, I understood. She really wasn't talking about me. She was asking about herself. She wanted to want more.
"But that's just it, Tanya. I'm not broken. Not really," I said softly. I couldn't tell her if the same was true for her. For some who had suffered heartbreak - a loss, as I had - her words were absolutely true. Humans were capable of mending.
It was just different in my case. I searched for words to explain how I felt without sounding delusional. "Do you know how... I talk about music...and you don't get it?" I asked finally.
"Music isn't anything but noise," Tanya responded flatly.
I felt my lips quirk slightly in response. The very idea was blasphemous to me. I'd been raised around music. It was, to me, like religion was to others. "But to me, it's so much more than noise."
"Right, a profound experience," Tanya summarized my feelings quite succinctly. We'd had the music conversation many times, me always boggling at the very idea that music could be so unimportant to someone.
"Exactly...but that part of you is just missing, and while it completely boggles my mind, you don't feel any worse off, right?"
Tanya was silent for a few moments as she processed this. "I understand what you're saying...but what if it's not the same thing? Haven't you ever thought that maybe life is more meaningful when you share it with someone?"
"But I do share it with people," I protested. "The amazing people I call friends...each one of them reflects a piece of me. Brandy understands my music - the way it affects me and the beauty of it. Aro understands my need to figure out people throughout time and place through artifacts etc, etc, etc..."
Tanya grinned at me; a vaguely predatory smile. "And I understand the need for a healthy sexual appetite."
I tickled the bare skin of her sides playfully. "And you're good to talk to."
When her giggles had died down, Tanya spoke again. "You never think that she destroyed you for other women?" Her voice was just a tiny bit lost. If I didn't know her so well, I wouldn't have caught it at all.
Instead of calling her on it, I answered her question. "I don't know, Tanya. I don't really think a connection like that is supposed to exist. It's too strong. I can't even fathom finding something else. Anything else would just be ... not good enough. And how is that fair to anyone? The future I saw when I looked in her eyes doesn't exist without her. I don't want it."
Silence stretched on between us but Tanya didn't offer up her thoughts. I sighed. "So what's going on T? You ready to settle down? Are you asking all of your boy toys this question?" I asked, opting for levity.
She gave a short bark of laughter. "No. You're quite the catch, Edward."
I snorted. "Right."
Tanya rolled onto her belly, smacking my bare chest once. "You are. I wouldn't even think about asking the others, not even rhetorically." She shrugged. "You know me. I'm not really all that serious about it anyway. Just, sometimes I want to know what all the fuss is about."
"Well, T. I couldn't tell you," I murmured, catching her hand and playing with her fingers. It was more of a comforting motion than me wanting to start anything again. "Tanya, if this doesn't work for you anymore, I would understand that. You know that right?"
She sighed slightly. "Of course I know that. And it does work for me. It does. Sometimes it's hard not to think we're abnormal."
At that I couldn't help but laugh. "We are abnormal, T. We don't want or need to share this journey through life with someone to come home to. That goes against the nature of people. But I still don't think it's bad. I prefer it"
Tanya considered this and smiled genuinely. "You know something, I really do too."
A/N: So now we know what Edward's been up to all these years. Thanks to dizzygrl28 for beta'ing.
Team Jasper: I have a lengthy lemontastic outtake for you. Right now, it's only available at TwiHardFic(dot)com. You have to sign up to see the stories but it's a fun archive and discussion site I run with CellaCullen and Dizzygrl28. PLEASE NOTE - if you don't want to sign up, I totally get it. I'm not going to make you. Just let me know and I'll send it to you some other way.
(Melly aka Dizzygrl28 here, hijacking Kris's a/n to tell you to run, don't walk, and register on Twi-Hard where you can not only play in the forums, but also peruse our actively growing story archive. Some stories in the archive are exclusive to Twi-Hard, so by not registering, you may be missing out on that hot little lemon you've been looking for. Plus, we're some awesome bitches to chat with. We look forward to welcoming you!)
Team Edward: How do you feel about the man our boy has grown up to be?
Remember, a link to the discussion board can be found in my profile or you can just copy and paste: twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=9670 . I do post teasers and the like in that forum.
