Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns it. I'm just playing.

The Storm

By the time I left Alice's house and started to walk back, the snow had started falling heavier and thicker. When I passed Jasper a couple minutes later there was snow a few inches deep already covering the ground. He nodded at me as I walked past, leading a horse in each hand. I paused for a moment, watching the large, silent creatures behind him padding in the soft of the new snow. They left deep, dark footprints and breathed twisting streams of smoke into the air.

As soon as the quiet procession disappeared behind the cabin I turned around and continued to pick my way slowly through field and fence in the dark. I pulled the hood of my jacket up against the wet flakes and tried to ignore the dampness seeping slowly into my shoes, sloshing as I walked.

When I reached the top of the hill I stopped again, my eyes coming to rest on the large ranch house before me.

From a distance I could see the decay on such a grand scale. Knowing what it looked like from the inside and seeing the manifestation of negligence on the outside was staggering. Even in the dark, the chipping of the white paint was visible. Slats of wood had begun to sag and fall from the sides like the shedding of snakeskin. The shutters were crooked and rough on filthy windows. I was sure it had been impossible to maintain when Carlisle became ill, the place was far too large for Esme to manage herself while taking care of her husband.

It was a powerful, visceral sight; one that made my stomach twist uncomfortably. A family had been created, raised in that house. It was the home of Edward's childhood, all his happy memories of a time when he didn't know me.

Looking at it now, I felt my eyes burn and prick. It was ragged and run down and tired and I hated that I was living in it; hated that whenever Edward walked in, it was me waiting for him instead of people who loved him. I was destroying the house more fully and completely than any natural elements were capable of. Letting it fester and rot would allow it to crumble eventually, but I would kill everything it stood for long before that happened.

I took a shaky breath and tried to force myself to walk the rest of the distance to the front porch. I could see a single light on downstairs, the brightness cutting into the dark and white of the evening, indicating the Edward had returned home. I bit my lip as I imagined facing him now. He was home before me, but would he even notice I wasn't there? Would he be surprised when I walked in the front door, having not noticed I was gone?

I glanced around quickly, trying to gather courage to step forward, and my eyes caught on a large, dark shape in the back of the house. I squinted against the snowflakes in my eyes until I was able to make out what it was. I took a step towards it, then another, until I was standing before a huge, looming tree.

Even though it was the beginning of spring, even though it was snowing so late in the season so that its bare branches wouldn't be suspicious, I knew that the tree was dead. The bark of its trunk was far too dark, almost black. It was warped and smooth in some places and there was a large, gaping whole in the middle, as if it had been sliced in half.

Not understanding the compulsion to do so, I took one more step towards it, holding my hand out to the wood hesitantly, reverently. As soon as my foot landed, it caught and staggered over a large stone covered with fresh snow on the ground and I pitched forward unsteadily. I threw both my hands in front of me to break my fall and they connected with the unnaturally smooth wood.

At the exact same moment I fell, I heard the front door of the house slam open. It was followed by hurried steps down the porch stairs and the padding of boots across the ice-covered drive. I pushed myself up quickly and brushed the snow off my knees, my pants now as cold and wet as the rest of me.

Wondering where on earth Edward would be driving to at the beginning of a snow storm, I walked back around the side of the house to the front. As I turned the corner, headlights flashed on as I heard the roar of the engine starting. Shocked and momentarily blinded, I threw my arm across my face to shield myself from the glare. I took a staggering step back in surprise, but almost immediately the engine went dead and I was plunged back into darkness.

I heard the car door open and slam and Edward's quick steps, quiet on the snow. I dropped my arm back to my side and blinked back into the darkness. My eyes readjusted just in time to see Edward's face right in front of mine before I felt my arms being seized in his grip, his hands so tight around me I thought for sure they could shatter bone.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a ragged hiss. I could feel the steel of his fingers clenching and unclenching around my biceps, as if he was deciding whether or not to snap my arms in half.

I opened and closed my mouth several times in shock. Of all the reactions I had been anticipating, this had been the last I expected. I was so sure I would come home to an indifferent husband who wouldn't care where I had been or what I had been doing. I was expecting him to look up from a book he was reading at the table, or for him to stop playing the piano and walk into the hall curiously when he heard the door. His anger wasn't something I was ready for, but once I was able to compose myself I was ready to give it right back to him.

"What do you care?" I shot back, jerking my body abruptly, trying to break from his hold. I felt his hands squeeze tighter, then slowly relax until they dropped away from me at last. I rubbed my arms as I glared back at him, hoping they wouldn't bruise.

"You can't just leave whenever the fuck you want. Not without telling me, leaving a note, something." I could see the dark of his frame shaking, his hands curling into fists at his side as if to keep them from lashing out and grabbing me again. "This isn't a fucking vacation, Bella."

I barked a laugh. "Really? What is this then?"

There was a long pause and I could see the breath rising up from his mouth in short, quick bursts as he fought desperately to contain himself.

Finally, when I thought he wasn't going to give me an answer, I heard him growl low, "This is our fucking life."

Those words. The hopeless, resigned, angry tone of them was like a punch to the gut. It was my turn to be silent as I felt the anguish of what he was saying, so deep and so harsh that I had trouble catching my breath. This was our life. All this hate, all this pain. This was what we chose, what we suffered for every moment we were together.

I didn't know if there was enough forgiveness in the world to change it.

"You can't do this," I said at last, my voice shaky and broken, but still filled with spite and anger. "You can't just say you don't care what I do, act like you don't give a shit if I starve to death, pretend I don't exist when you're around me and then flip out when I believe you."

This is what we do. This is the way we defend ourselves.

"You realize there's a snowstorm going on right now?" he spat, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "And you…what? Decided to go for a walk? How fucking stupid do you have be –"

"Actually," I cut him off, feeling my face flush in rage and indignation. "I was at Alice and Jasper's house. I could have stayed there if it the storm had gotten too bad."

"You were –" this time Edward stopped himself as he looked towards the hills, in the direction of the Whitlock's cabin.

I couldn't see Edward's face with the light from the house at his back, as close as he was. Still, I saw the tension in his shoulders release slightly and could practically feel the anger giving way.

After a couple more moments of silence I finally said quietly, "So, can I go inside now? Or did you want to stand out here until we freeze to death?"

I saw the silhouette of Edward's face turn in my direction, still just a mass of black in front of me, blocking my way. The snow was falling heavily into his hair, the light sparking off the ice and bronze so that it looked like a shimmery halo above his head. Silently, he stepped aside, motioning me towards the house. Without a second glance, I strode past him – my arms folded firmly across my chest – and ascended the stairs quickly, sensing him at my back.

I took my jacket off quickly, and hung it on a rack to dry. I slid out of my shoes, sure that they would never be dry again. I walked through the kitchen and paused, glancing at the stairs where I was headed. I considered running up to the second floor to take a shower and sit alone in my freezing cold room all night, wondering if it wouldn't be better than the alternative. I heard Edward behind me, taking off his own boots in the back room, and something in that sound kept me where I was.

He had noticed.

That was all I could think. Whether he was worried or just angry that he didn't have absolute control, that maybe I wasn't his prisoner; whether he thought I had run out for good or was panicked that I was dead somewhere in this wasteland. The why didn't much matter. Just that he had.

There was something so simple, so indefinable in that realization that when I heard him padding back into the kitchen in his socks I turned around and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Edward stopped, looking surprised that I was still standing there and that I had addressed him directly. In the light I could see his hair darkened by the chilly wet, his cheeks red and alive from the bite of the cold. He looked like a little boy.

As always, the surprise didn't last for long and was soon replace by the same familiar, despondent expression he wore almost constantly.

Feeling awkward with him looking at me so blankly after the horrible display of passionate fury outside - knowing that only I could render him so crazed and so disconnected within a matter of minutes - I prepared to turn around and walk up the stairs resignedly. I couldn't be around him with him not wanting me. It was unbearable.

"Yes."

It was my turn to look surprised. My eyes snapped up to meet his and I caught him staring at me steadily, face still unreadable, but something like a challenge suddenly in his posture.

"Alright," I said, turning to the refrigerator without asking him what he'd like.

I heard him pull out a chair and sit down as I grabbed a loaf of bread and enough eggs and milk to make French toast. I could feel his eyes on my back and the hairs on my neck stood up against his gaze, discomfort lumped in my throat.

I walked over to the counter next to the stove and began cracking eggs into a large bowl.

"You were really at Alice's?" I heard suddenly.

I turned around, twisting my body to look at him harshly. "Where else would I have been?"

Edward shrugged. "I just didn't think you liked her very much."

I turned back to the toast, dipping the first piece in the egg and milk and placing it on the griddle. I walked over to the other counter to grab a spatula before I answered. When I did, it was short and clipped. "I didn't know Alice. Now I do." Then I copied his shrug. "I like her."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that and settled for a quiet "oh."

We were silent again as I placed the finished toast onto a plate and handed it to Edward. I put two pieces onto another plate for myself and wrapped the rest of them up for breakfast. I walked over to the cabinet next to the table and grabbed a bottle of maple syrup. When I turned around I saw Edward had already dug into his own plate, eating the dry toast vigorously. I smiled slightly and fought back a chuckle before holding out the bottle of syrup. He glanced up at me, as if he was shocked to find I would have had the foresight to buy maple syrup, and took it with an almost embarrassed expression.

I sat down across from him and he slid the bottle back towards me when he was done with it. I quickly drenched my meal in the sticky sweet and dug in happily, glad to be eating something warm.

When I was halfway done, I put my fork down with a clank as I suddenly remembered the question I was going to ask Edward before he had grabbed me.

"So, now that we know where I was...where were you going in the middle of a snowstorm?" I wanted to know.

Edward blinked at me, down at his empty plate, then back at me. His eyes were dead again, completely closed up, inside and out. He wasn't going to answer me.

"I mean, you didn't have to go back to work, did you? We just went shopping so it's not like you were stalking provisions for a snow-in…" I tapered off, watching him closely.

Nothing.

"You were going out to look for me?" I asked quietly, knowing the answer before he nodded.

That nod of that head, those unseeing eyes, they were broken and hardened and cruel and hateful and in agony. All of a sudden that nod and those eyes belonged to the same man I had married. Time and love had changed him, but he wasn't someone to be feared, wasn't someone to be hated. He was Edward.

"Thank you," I whispered, without meaning to.

Edward got up without warning and strode out of the room.