Stephenie Meyer owns these characters. All dialogue borrowed from Twilight is purely for clarification. No infringement of copyright is intended, only my admiration.

My thanks to Lezlee for her always thorough beta. Any mistakes are caused by me. I'm always 'tweaking'.

Playlist Picks:
Human Behaviour - Björk
You Wouldn't Like Me - Tegan & Sarah

IN LIMBO

The last minor chords reverberated off the soundboard, making the dust motes dance in the streaming sunlight. I leaned away from the piano to watch them, imagining that they, too, could be moved by this music. The soft, sweet melody Bella had inspired was complete and it was beautiful, just like her. Its poignancy gave voice to my yearning like nothing else.

Satisfied, I switched off the microphone and paused the recording software. I didn't need to save it on disc; I just wanted to have it. On impulse, I lined up a few more tracks, including one I'd once written for Esme, and created a short compilation. As the CD burned, I fancied it might make a suitable gift one day. Bella and I were supposed to be friends now, after all. Perhaps she would like it.

A fair-weather friend, I scoffed, watching a gust of wind shake the trees surrounding the house. She'll not see my face today.

The sunlight refracted off the white walls of the great room, bouncing back against the windows. I frowned at the spectrum radiating off the surface of the CD, onto my freakish skin. A few months ago, I'd have rejoiced at the prospect of staying out of school a day or two longer. Not now.

So hung up on that chick... Emmett had griped.

It had taken outright bribery to get him to leave Goat Rocks before dusk, and he'd loudly expressed his displeasure all the way home. I didn't care. Alice's call had caused my imagination to run amok again. I had controlled my anxiety by watching the digits on the odometer creep forward. I knew I shouldn't have gone away.

By the time we got home however, it seemed her flair for the dramatic had got the better of her. During the intervening hours, decisions had been made, new alternatives had arisen, and Bella's future had cleared again.

"I did see something," she insisted. "When she made up her mind, I got all sorts of variables. Some were distinctly dangerous." She bit her lip, shaking her head in frustration. "But they… passed."

All she could confirm was that Bella's path had been decided, and that I was on it. Like everything else about that girl, the affirmation both thrilled and terrified me.

And I understood why she'd overreacted: she felt guilty about not telling me what had happened at La Push on Saturday. There were a couple of hours when she lost track of Bella completely. She went on a hike in the rainforest with some of the others, but when they regrouped at the beach, she was not among them.

Alice felt like something was blocking her sight – that was the only way she could describe it, and she spent the better part of an hour trying to see past it. Suddenly, as if a curtain had pulled back, Bella stepped out from the shadows to help pack up for the journey back to Forks. The humans appeared not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

With chagrin, she admitted that being otherwise occupied with Jasper might have caused her attention to waver. I couldn't begrudge her time with her husband; they had their own lives, and she was doing me a favour. I just wish she'd told me when it happened.

"She was on the other side of the line. There was nothing to do but wait. I trusted the outcome would be favourable, and it was. Besides," - she rolled her eyes - "You'd have only gone off the deep end."

She was right. I would probably have commandeered the Jeep. Emmett wouldn't have spoken to me again for weeks.

But no matter what Alice said, I couldn't shake the apprehension that something malevolent lurked in Bella's future. I reasoned that it was probably because of me. As I slipped through her bedroom window that night though, I wasn't thinking about that. I just needed to see her, to prove to myself she was all right.

Just as before, I was struck by how lovely she was, how peaceful. To me, hers truly was the face an angel. Indeed, she was far above me, in every way. She deserved so much better than the attentions of a pathetic, skulking, stalking freak of nature. I had no right to be here. What did I think I was doing?

As if I needed to ask myself that.

Like an addict anticipating the needle I waited, enduring the red-hot knives rasping at my throat.

Had I really only been gone three days? How much longer it seemed. Breathing in the glorious scent coming off her skin, her hair – the very essence of her– made me feel good, whole… well. The anxiety fell away as easily as the curtains had behind me. Just knowing that she existed was all I needed to feel complete.

She must have been very tired. Her breathing came deep and heavy, sometimes drifting into little snores. The talking didn't start until much later, near dawn. All I could make out were a few mumbled entreaties to her mother, and once she said something like, "It's too green." I felt that she still must be very lonely here.

Yes, she was safe, but the other children had returned her home, damaged. She must have taken a couple of falls because her hands were scraped, and one elbow was bandaged. It angered me that her friends had not taken proper care of her, but it was my fault; I should not have left her alone. It would not happen again.

This protectiveness I felt for her, it made me think about what Tanya had said while we'd watched the auroras that night. Perhaps she was right, and the reason Bella still lived proved I could rise above my nature. Perhaps knowing her was making me into a better person. Maybe some day I'd even become a good person.

I left, heartened by that thought, and by the prospect of seeing her again, at school, in a few hours. The short, intense showers that passed through the area further bouyed my mood as I ran home, and I looked forward to the morning.

It was a morning that dawned bright and clear, with a brisk wind to break up the cottony clouds.

"We could have stayed another day," Emmett complained at sunrise.

Alice, irritated that her foresight wasn't cooperating, was also uncharacteristically snippy. "You rely on my sight too much," she pouted.

Our home was the one place where we could truly be ourselves, and we had stocked it with every amusement necessary to help pass the time on a day like this, the vampire equivalent of a snow-day.

Truthfully, ours can be a very boring existence – an endless life of hurry-up-and-wait. You wait for night, or for a change in the weather. You wait for the chance encounter that will bring you your next meal. You wait for companionship too, and some never find it. I had been waiting for Bella for the better part of a century, had I only known it. Well, I knew it now.

Only music held any interest for me that morning, and once I finished composing, there was nothing else I wanted to do. I crashed the ivories irritably, pointlessly, wishing I played a sturdier instrument, one more fit to vent my frustration with. I pounded the keys again, thumping the sustain pedal for good measure. Though I'd only been home for a couple of hours, it already felt like far too long since I'd seen her.

I was alone. The others had gone hunting, far from human eyes. Well, not Emmett and Rosalie: they were reuniting somewhere in the mountains, but the point was that no inquisitive family members would see me leave. As long as I kept out of the sunlight…

Bella's routine was to arrive at school early, and study in the library. If I left now, I might at least be able to catch a glimpse of her. It would make the rest of the day bearable. The very thought lifted my heart, sending wings to my feet.

As I ran, I couldn't help noticing the irony of the situation. Just days before Bella's arrival in Forks, I'd talked to Carlisle about possibly leaving school, and going off on my own again for a while. The daily tedium had become almost unbearable. I certainly never thought I'd find myself hurrying to get to this place on a day I didn't have to be there.

It took me less time than I'd anticipated. There were few cars in the parking lot, and, besides the students arriving early for band practice, the grounds were almost empty.

The faint odour of cigarette smoke and the sound of muffled conversation wafted through the trees, indicating the proximity of Doug Coupland and his friends. Their dulled senses wouldn't have anticipated my approach, but it was expedient to avoid them. I circled the verge of the forest bordering the sports fields, keeping well back so the sunlight would not reflect off my skin.

I climbed into the limbs of a huge cypress. The feathered branches concealed me while still providing an unobstructed view of the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The building housing the library was just beyond. I hoped I'd see her as she went inside.

It wasn't long before I picked up the sound of her truck pulling into the parking lot. I waited a few moments more and, sure enough, she rounded the corner. I was in luck; she must have wanted to take advantage of the fine weather because instead of heading into the building, she made her way right to one of the picnic benches, and threw her jacket onto the damp seat. She pulled her homework out of her bag, and went to work.

She looked so pretty. She was wearing the jeweled clips in her hair again, and her t-shirt had a cartoon of a dinosaur on it. Faint tendrils of her scent wafted towards me on the breeze, making me smile.

She didn't remain intent on her homework for long. After a few moments, appearing lost in thought, she started doodling. Her gaze wandered to the edge of the forest several yards in front of my hiding place. I was frightened, for an instant, that she might see me.

At the same time, I wanted very much to call out to her, but the image in my head of a honey-voiced monster luring a fair maiden to her doom in the woods quickly brought me to my senses.

"Bella," someone else called instead, and I recognized Mike Newton's voice immediately.

"Hey, Mike," she replied, waving at him enthusiastically. He drew near eagerly, in response to her greeting.

"I like your shirt," he said, pointing directly at her breasts as he read what was printed on it."'Thesaurus'. That's funny."

He sat very close to her, grinning like a fool. There seemed to be an easy conviviality between them that hadn't existed before. Jealousy constricted my throat, causing me to wonder what had happened on the beach trip.

He stared at her, drinking in her loveliness just as I always did, mesmerized by the highlights in her hair. A few strands moved in the breeze, and he caught them between his fingers.

"I never noticed before—your hair has red in it," he noted, marveling at its shine and silkiness.

His limited vision could not pick up the lovely highlights of cinnamon, espresso, and chocolate that mine could, but he had been right about one thing the other day: she really was good enough to eat. I saw flavours, not colours.

"Only in the sun," she replied, ducking her head, looking slightly uncomfortable as he tucked the strands behind her ear, proprietarily – something I'd longed to do for weeks.

"Great day, isn't it?" he commented. He wanted to ask her out again, and was fishing for an opening in the conversation.

"My kind of day," she agreed, her eyes darting as if seeking escape, her lips pressing into an impatient smile that asked, What does he want?

"What did you do yesterday?" He truly thought it was his business to know. Underneath the possessiveness, he feared that she'd spent the day with me. If only I had been so lucky.

"I mostly worked on my essay," she replied, blandly.

"Oh yeah – that's due Thursday, right?" he exclaimed, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. Crap, I totally forgot!

"Um, Wednesday, I think," she demurred.

"Wednesday?" he grimaced. I haven't even started yet. "That's not good…what are you writing yours on?"

"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic," she replied, chewing the end of her pen, and eyeing him archly. Was she doing that on purpose?

He just stared at her, caught between her allure, and the fact that he had no idea what she'd just said. There was a second or two when his mind went completely blank.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he finally said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh," she replied. Why did she seem surprised? His intentions had been so obvious.

"Well, we could go to dinner or something," he pressed. "I could work on it later." His smile was hopeful, pleading.

"Mike…" she interjected, shaking her head. "I don't think that would be the best idea."

His face fell. "Why?" he asked, petulantly. He suspected that Bella and I were already dating.

"I think…and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death," she threatened, causing me to muffle a snicker, "that it would hurt Jessica's feelings."

"Jessica?" He was bewildered. He'd barely thought about her since Saturday. He'd been holding out hope of winning Bella's favour instead.

"Really, Mike, are you blind?" she asked.

"Oh," he sighed, dazed. Clearly, he had missed all of Jessica's very obvious signals. He had also completely forgotten he was going to the dance with her next week.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, Bella sought her escape, gathering up her books and shoving them into her bag. "It's time for class, and I can't be late again," she told him.

He followed her to building three, preoccupied with this new idea of Jessica liking him. He'd known her since Kindergarten, and thought of her as a friend, albeit a good one. She'd always been around; his parents knew her parents. But Bella was new, and she was interesting, and smart, and pretty. He supposed Jess was pretty, too. He'd never really considered it before…

I let his thoughts fade away, satisfied that nothing significant had happened between him and Bella on Saturday.

I wanted to make sure that she was safely in the building before I left, so I located Jessica, waiting in Trig, and blissfully anticipating her evening with Mike at the upcoming dance. She imagined slow-dancing with him at the end of the night. As the last song ended, he clasped her hand, and led her to a bench outside the gym where he pulled her close, leaned in, and … and then it was too uncomfortable to be in her head.

I was relieved when her train of thought switched to her wardrobe. I hadn't thought it possible for anyone, besides Alice, to get so enthused about clothing, but I was wrong. She'd decided that tonight she'd make the trip to Port Angeles to buy her dress. Angela and Lauren had already agreed to go with her, and she pounced on Bella as soon as she arrived, insisting that she join them.

As soon as the invitation tumbled out of her mouth, I felt it, that nagging premonition of danger. I had no reason to; Alice had seen nothing untoward when she'd looked into the future this morning. Nevertheless, it was there.

Bella seemed hesitant, but of course I had no idea why. She gave Jess a maybe, adding that she'd have to check with her father first. She didn't have a cell phone, and knowing her, she wouldn't want to bother him at work with something so trivial.

So, I decided to check on her at home, after school. If I needed to trail her to Port Angeles, my intent was not to interfere. I would keep my distance unless she needed my help. With her luck, no doubt she would. Satisfied that she'd be safe for the duration of the school day, I ran home, taking the same dog-legged route I'd come.

When the others returned from the hunt, I grilled Alice, again, to see if anything had changed in Bella's future. All she mustered was a vision of the two of us, seated - in a restaurant, of all places – talking intently. It was unclear if it meant that our date next week would still go ahead despite the weather forecast, or if she was seeing something else. It was very frustrating.

It seemed days, rather than hours, passed while I waited for the school day to end. I sought solace at the piano, but the music I played was not at all my usual preference. The tense, complicated Rachmaninoff concertos required all my concentration, making it impossible to speculate and worry.

From time to time, I caught Esme and Carlisle listening uneasily. At one point, Carlisle stood in the kitchen, debating whether or not to approach me, eventually deciding not to. I knew they suspected the cause of my agitation. I appreciated their concern, but at that moment, felt immensely grateful for their policy of staying out of our private lives unless directly asked for help. I didn't know how to talk to them about this.

By four o'clock, I could no longer stand being in limbo. As I had that morning, I took off for Forks at a run. There was less chance of being seen if I approached from above, so I scaled a sturdy tree and used it as a springboard to travel through the canopy. It didn't take long to reach the forest verge on the north end of town where she lived.

From my vantage point, I could see her truck in the driveway, and I could also tell that she wasn't in the house. Had she gone to Port Angeles with her friends already? I was uneasy as I circled the forested perimeter of the back yard.

Wherever she had gone, it wasn't far, for I caught her scent very quickly. Something caught my attention and I stopped, enraptured by the sight on the lawn below. She slept on a quilt, with the sleeves of her shirt pushed up, exposing the delicate white skin of her arms. Her hair fanned out around her. Truly, she never more resembled a vision of Venus. Time stopped as I watched her sleep. Nothing in the world mattered but her.

She was so beautiful, so small... vulnerable, and defenseless… What if I had come upon her like this on that very first day? What if I had been hunting, governed by instinct, alone? Would I have had the wherewithal to resist the lure of her blood? As I contemplated the answer I knew to be true, I knew that if other, less civilized members of my kind happened upon her like this…

She had been reading a Jane Austen compilation before falling asleep. The book lay open, pages down, on the quilt beside her. I wondered why she hadn't brought the well-thumbed copy of Wuthering Heights as well; she almost always had it with her.

I'd never enjoyed that book. No matter how many times I'd read it, the appeal still eluded me. Quite simply, it was a dreadful melodrama, peopled with horrible characters that treated one another miserably. I failed to see why it should interest a teen-aged American girl in the twenty-first century.

Cathy was a monster that destroyed everyone she loved; Linton was a weakling, physically and morally; and Heathcliff - actually, he cut a little close to the bone for my taste. Nevertheless, as I watched her stir and murmur in her sleep, one of his speeches suddenly held new meaning, reminding me how differently I felt for her now than on the day we'd first met:

Last night, I was on the threshold of hell. Today, I am within sight of my heaven. I have my eyes on it: hardly three feet to sever me.

The sun fell below the trees but she slept on, waking only to the sound of the cruiser's wheels turning onto the brick driveway out front. She sat up with a start, looking around expectantly. Did she somehow know I was nearby?

"Charlie?" she called, as her father walked in the front door, preoccupied as usual. As he divested himself of his boots and gun belt, she jumped up, gathered the quilt and book, and ran inside. I listened carefully.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet," she explained, yawning, "I fell asleep outside."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replied. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway." She does too much for me.

They ate in comfortable silence, and Charlie's thoughts were preoccupied with the Mariners game, which he turned on as she washed the dishes. He watched her for a few moments, smiling to himself, and thinking how much he loved having her stay with him. He had missed caring for her during her childhood, yet here she was, on the cusp of adulthood, doting on him. He felt he didn't deserve his good fortune.

I was as surprised as he was when, instead of going upstairs to do her homework, she reached from behind the couch to hug him tightly around the neck. He switched over to a sitcom and she sat down next to him, snuggling against his shoulder like a much younger child. I was happy to see the bond between them. It was as strong as any that existed in my own family.

The evening was wearing on. Surely if she wanted to go to Port Angeles with her friends tonight, she would ask him soon?

"Dad," she ventured, during a commercial break, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose…do you mind if I go with them?"

Tomorrow night? How had I missed that change of plans? Perhaps Jessica had canceled on her? Had Newton seen the light and asked her out tonight, instead?

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked. Of course he knew her parents.

"And Angela Weber," she reiterated, sighing. She gave him the details, but he didn't understand why she was shopping for dresses when she wasn't planning to attend the dance.

"But you're not going to the dance, right?" he asked, just to be sure.

"No, Dad." She sounded impatient. "I'm helping them find dresses—you know, giving them constructive criticism."

I s'pose it's good she's getting out... "Well, okay," he assented, still confused, but needing to assert his parental authority. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?" she asked.

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded her.

"I don't know how you survived," she muttered, and then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

He rolled his eyes, and thought something like, I'm not totally decrepit yet, before returning his attention to the television.

After I hunted that night, it was much easier to convince myself to return to watch her sleep. The ritual fulfilled a need within me that I hadn't known existed before. I felt like half a being made whole; and the burn of the blood was a small price to pay. I stood sentinel outside her window, guarding her from the unseen dangers of the night.

Before sunrise, I ran home and consulted Alice for a weather update. The forecast was for sun in the morning, followed by increasing cloud and possible showers in the evening. We wouldn't be able to return to school until Wednesday, but at least I'd be able to keep eye on Bella while she was in Port Angeles.

So, I escorted her to school that morning, following the same convoluted route as yesterday. She left late though, barely arriving in time to make it to her first class. I didn't get to see her for very long. I listened, through Jessica's mind, long enough to ascertain that their trip to Port Angeles was indeed back on the menu tonight, and that Lauren wouldn't be joining them. I was glad about that; I hadn't relished hearing her poisonous thoughts for the entire outing.

There was nothing left to do but wait out the remainder of the school day. I went home and got the car, some books, and my MP3 player. Though I couldn't be seen by human eyes today, I had no intention of spending it confined to the house.

In this sheltered grassy clearing, secluded by old growth pine and spruce, life teemed in the palest fronds of minute, feathery ferns just uncurling; in the nubbins of spearmint green fanning from the deciduous hedges; and in the tiny, feathery crocuses poking through the grass.

I liked to think that this was my place. Mine alone. My refuge of complete peace and tranquility, it was completely free of the cacophony of voices that filled my head, every moment of every single day of my existence. I yearned for its teeming silence.

I'd discovered it one summer afternoon shortly after we'd moved back here, when on a whim I drove the highway on our side of the boundary until the road ran out.

I was hunting, bearing down a doe. She was fat from good grazing, and a little lazy, and I was playing with her, wearying her before the kill. I wasn't paying much attention to the terrain but I knew in exactly which direction I was traveling. And, I could tell by the growing light in the forest that there was a clearing up ahead.

I almost had her – I would have - but when her white tail flashed in the sunlight I froze, obeying the predator's instinct to recoil from exposure. I watched her bound through the long grass and ferns to the other side, mesmerized by the first sight of a meadow that would become my favourite place in the Olympic Peninsula: a dazzling field of foxglove, daisies, and fawn lilies.

Throughout the year, I returned regularly. It was always beautiful, but my favourite time was July, when the fireweed and wood lilies were in full bloom. Unbelievably, I had never encountered any hikers here – I'd never even smelled them on the wind.

This was my first inspection of the spring, and it revealed that the small creek on the south side was dammed with winterkill, flooding the low-lying part of the meadow. A little dam-busting was all that was needed to get it flowing again.

Then I headed for the warmest, sunniest spot, where the grass grew tall. I'd brought a journal with me, intending to write an essay for English class tomorrow, but felt lazy, deciding instead to regurgitate one of the papers I'd written decades ago. I was able to relax to the music on my iPod, but what I really wanted was to be able to sleep in the warm sunshine the way Bella had yesterday. What luxury that would have been.

Thankfully, the afternoon passed more pleasantly and quickly than it had the day before. Sooner than I realized, it was time to return to Forks to follow Bella and her friends to Port Angeles. It would be difficult, but not impossible to do so without being seen, but since I knew where they were going, I could keep a reasonable distance between us.

Assuming that the general outline of their plan had not changed since this morning, I knew Jessica would follow Bella home so she could leave her truck and school books behind. Angela lived in the north end of town, just off the highway, and they would pick her up on the way out to Port Angeles.

I waited, in an alley around the corner from Angela's, listening for the sound of Jessica's old white Mercury.

Her thoughts were loud and giddy as she approached. I didn't pay attention to them, concentrating instead on the interval between the moment she tapped the horn, and the instant the rear passenger door slammed shut, indicating that Angela had taken her seat.

I gave them several minutes' head start so they could merge safely onto the interstate. Then I pulled out of the alley, and made my own way to Port Angeles.

A/N: Thanks for waiting on this chapter. I actually took a little Twilight side-trip last month, and wrote a one-shot for Project Team Beta's "Life and Times of Bree Tanner" challenge. It's entitled "A Carton of Milk", and I'm absolutely delighted to announce that it won the "READERS' CHOICE" award! Thanks to everone who voted! This was the first time I've entered a fanfiction writing challenge, and Iit was great to receive such encouragement.

Bree was fun to write about but I'm back with Edward now. Here's my take on what happened after he and Emmett returned from the Goat Rocks Wilderness.