Author's Note: See Author's Note at the end.
RECAP of Entwined: In case you COMPLETELY forgot what this story was about…
Our little Eddie gets a whiff of Bella as per the saga, and takes off. BUT instead of coming right back, he returns 6 months later to find a car wreck and Bella, dying. He turns her, realizing (with a whole lot of denial and a ton of pigheadedness) he's in love with her. Bella loves him too? May-beee… And Bella's pretty cool—strange power they don't quite get yet, a whole lot of stubbornness of her own, and secrets she's keeping. Plus, she just told Rose where to shove it. But since Bella and Edward never get it easy, they are being watched…closely.
If you are so inclined, I HIGHLY recommend that you go back and read previous chapters if you can't remember. Even I had to do it for continuity purposes. I know… bad. I know. You don't have to say it.
Chapter 14: Playlist Song: Nothing But You, by Kim Ferron
Disclaimer: All characters from and references to Twilight and the Twilight Saga belong to Stephenie Meyer. No money is made from this writing, and no copyright infringement is intended. The plot for Entwined is mine.
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Chapter 14: The Importance of a Timely Exit
The sunlight glittered and bounced off her skin as if she were covered in droplets of water. She lay on her stomach, her head lolled slightly to the side, and her fingers holding open a small paperback. Her brow was furrowed in the most adorable way, and her sharp teeth were pressed into her bottom lip, as she read her story as slowly as she could have possibly managed. Even though she was trying to savor it, her fingers flipped the pages too fast. Still, she reminded me so much of a human, the way her legs, straight up in the air behind her and crossed at the ankle, continued to kick in cadence with her reading. Occasionally, she'd sigh, her lips pursing from her story. She was reading so intently, I didn't know if she'd noticed the way my own book was thrown haphazardly to the side.
It had been a mere week and three days since Bella's revelation. Though we'd tried desperately to continue on as though nothing had happened in our world, there was no denying the fact that something loomed on the horizon—for us and for our world. Outside our home, the humans continued their lives as if nothing new had changed, as if they were not on the precipice of something, blissfully unaware of the world in which we existed. The shops continued to open, the schools continued to teach, the hospitals still ran. Charlie Swan still searched for his little girl. So we continued to humor them, each of us playing our part.
But all was not the same as it had been, before Bella found out about the interference of the Quileutes, or before she dissolved the link to her human life.
We could all feel it, and we were preparing for it.
We didn't have any more visits from the Quileutes, but it was quite apparent that there were some kind of stirrings down at the reservation. In school, my siblings heard murmurings of fights and wild parties that involved reservation boys. In the hospital, Carlisle heard of and saw more injuries come in from the Quileutes that they refused to explain the origins of. It was as if the entire tribe was alit, a tumult readying itself on the horizon above their land. It made us cautious—it made us ready. We knew that it was no coincidence.
Inside our home, there was unrest. We were divided, each of us with our own opinions about the situation at hand. Whispered, heated conversations took place in corners of our home, or in locked bedrooms amongst lovers. It was obvious that something needed to happen though, and soon.
The Denali coven left right away, erring on the side of caution. There was disagreement among them as well, though, whether or not they should distance themselves from us. As our family, Tanya and Kate felt it was important to stay should we need them, but secretly, Carmen and Irina worried about their own group. It was only upon Carlisle's request that they made the decision go—we'd been so lucky that they were not at the house when the Quileute boys had visited, because it would not have been amiable had they been there. Plus, Carlisle hated to engage them in a fight, should it come to that. The risk to his own family was already too much to bear.
I tried to keep as much of it from Bella as possible. As strong as she was, I did not want her to be afraid—at least that is what I told myself. Really, I did not want her to regret what had become of her. All of this was another test, another weight bearing down on her vampire life. I feared that all of it would finally tip the scale, and she would not even have the stomach to look at me. Though she said she did not regret her life now, there was always that fear that she might change her mind and come to hate me in the way that she should have all along.
The air surrounding all of us was full of tension, as we pretended that we didn't need to make these difficult decisions. Jasper was constantly on edge, his thoughts near-frantic, as he fed off of each of our insecurities. In an effort to leave some of the tension behind if only for a short time, Bella and I had disappeared to my meadow, a bag full of books between us. It was the least I could do for her. She felt such guilt for our obvious upheaval.
Not that I was complaining, of course. Hearing everyone's disgruntled thoughts was enough to drive me crazy, and I'd take any opportunity to spend time with Bella alone. Alone in this place with her, I could pretend that the world wasn't the nightmare I'd bore her into.
I was thankful that she had fallen into her life now with such grace, or so it seemed. It made things simpler in that she didn't have this period of intense hatred and regret. There were other things, however that tempted me. I found myself forgetting that she was a newborn. I felt more human than I had my whole life, and I found myself lost in her. All of her.
The way she moved and spoke and laughed. The timber of her sighs, the musicality of her voice. I watched her with such intensity and desire sometimes that Jasper had to clear his throat out of embarrassment for the feelings coming off of me. And for the first time in my whole existence as a vampire, I found myself, locked in a room alone with only my thoughts of Bella, and the pleasure of my own hand. I was ashamed about the way I had let my discipline slip. I'd had such constraint my whole existence, but now, with her, I could barely check myself. I was mortified about the way I fantasized about her, the things I wanted to do to her. Like a bullet train, I felt that I was speeding out of control, heading in a dangerous, dark destination. And, more so, the fact that I didn't want to try and regain it.
And she was oblivious to it all, the way I obsessed over her—the way that I was mesmerized by the curve of her shoulder and the dip of her lower back. I didn't know how she couldn't feel it sometimes, though I was immensely grateful for it. I didn't want to frighten her away, with my desperation. The desperation that I always felt.
The intense desperation that I was feeling now.
I shifted to hide the evidence of my thoughts of her, angling my body away from her. She noticed the movement out of her peripheral, and took that moment to look up. She smiled sweetly, as if we weren't hanging in the precarious position we were in. She sighed and closed her book, stretching onto her back.
"What time are we supposed to be back?"
As if she didn't know—as if she wasn't always aware that tonight we would decide all of our futures. I imagined that she was always ticking away the seconds in her head. The meeting we had planned that evening would be the vote to determine what our next course of action was going to be. We were going to leave, I was sure, but I wanted that to be her choice. They all knew this. And that was the cause of most of the unrest.
Rose wanted to be gone the moment the Quileute boys left the house. Jasper agreed that we needed to pack up and go immediately. Carlisle hesitated because of me, and because of the guilt that he'd feel at leaving the hospital so abruptly. Emmett wanted a fight. Esme wished only for our safety, while Alice wanted to get as far away from the disturbance in her visions as possible. And I wanted Bella to make the decision. Because we weren't the ones leaving behind all that we'd ever known.
Rose had called me every name in the book, of course, inferring with her curses and slanders that all this was my fault in the first place.
Of course, she was right. But I wasn't going to tell her that, and I wasn't going to back down.
"Soon," I told Bella gently. She only nodded and sat up. She tucked her knees up under her chin and looked out across the meadow at the hills beyond.
"When do you think we'll leave?" she whispered.
"We haven't decided that yet."
She looked over at me, her eyebrows rising in response. She was good at hiding things from me, but I knew the small smile that played on her lips was somewhat false.
"Edward, really. I know that with all that is going on, with me being a vampire and now with all the upset, we'd have to leave at some point. Of course we would. And I guess I always understood that, but…" she hesitated, stealing a moment to collect her thoughts. "I just thought I'd have a chance to make it right for him, to make him more at peace. I hate leaving him this way."
"I'm sorry," I told her again. She moved beside me, quietly. Her hand touched mine, and the warmth of her made me look up into her eyes. She didn't say anything, but I could tell by the warm look on her face what her lips were not saying: "Please, no more apologies. Please, not more 'I'm sorry's.'" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. She was right, of course. No words could change anything now, and they would not ease any of the ache. I would know—Carlisle's had never taken away the consequences of this life for me, or for Rose.
"Does it ever get easier?" she asked. "Leaving, I mean." She was only curious now.
"It's different for everyone," I told her. That was true, I supposed. I could hear it in everyone's thoughts. Esme and Carlisle always made the deepest ties to the places we lived. Carlisle usually worked in the hospitals or the clinic's where he was most needed, and Esme played the part of his dutiful wife. When we left, they missed the connections they'd made. Sometimes, when we returned to places we'd lived before, it struck chords in us. But I'd never truly cared before. Places were only places, people only humans who I would never see again, their lifetimes over in the blink of an eye. By the time we returned, they would be dead. It wasn't until I'd left Forks so many months ago that I felt the first ache of leaving somewhere. "This will be the most difficult. For you. And for me."
She snorted softly in that way that made me think there was more going on in her head than I understood.
"Was it hard to leave your home? I mean, after you were changed? Was it hard to leave where you had grown up?"
"No," I told her. "There was nothing left for me there, not really, anyway. My parents were gone, passed away before me. Carlisle had taken me away for my transformation, so I wasn't living in my house. It's still there and I still own it. I maintain it, in case we would need to stay there at some point, and I inherit it all again every generation, but as far as I was concerned, that life was gone the moment I woke up like this. My life wasn't something I cared too much to hold on to then."
For a moment, I was not there with her. I had few memories of my life that I'd left—they'd begun to fade and wash into soft tones when I turned—but for just a second, I was almost remembering them as they once were. I was a boy again, a child with a quieter mind and thoughts that consisted of only his own. I was stubborn, warring with the father that I would soon lose. I was the boy on the precipice of manhood, who only wanted to show the world how much unlike his father he was, and the little boy who's heart broke when he listened to his mother's sobs in the dark of the night. I was dying when Carlisle changed me, but before that, I hadn't been living the life I should have been. I was a young man, lost. My change had pulled me from one kind of turmoil, and thrust me into one even more frightening. When I woke from the burning, I'd wished for death. I knew what it was like to regret. But I'd never been sad to leave the place where I'd died. In fact, I practically ran from everything I'd ever been, if for nothing more than to forget.
Bella's hand, soft and gentle on my arm again, brought me back to the moment. To this girl-woman who was so unlike me, but who made me want to be like her. I wanted to be like her—good and beautiful and warm, despite her thirst for blood. I wanted to feel human again, and I wanted to feel that way with her.
I only hoped that I would have that chance someday.
I stood, and dropped my hand to her. She took a deep breath, knowing that what awaited us was our departure from Forks. But after a moment, she placed her palm in mine. The feeling of her made everything seem so much more important. So much more real. It was as if I were on fire, electrocuted from the inside out. Burning, but whole.
Together, we went home to face our fate.
"This is ridiculous," snorted Rose, slamming her palm on the table so that the walls trembled and Esme's curio cabinet cowered. "We're going around in circles, when we all know the next course of action. We just have to do it!"
We'd been talking for over an hour, tossing back our feeling on the matter of leaving Forks. There had been no argument, though the air had been wound tight with the unsteady feelings. Jasper was sitting, his head in his palms from the emotions filtering through him. It was especially difficult with Bella, who was throwing him all off balance. It was almost as if he were weary.
Emmett shot me a sorrowful gaze. He'd been especially sensitive to my feelings on the matter of leaving. He knew the delicate nature of our move, and how tentatively I considered Bella's reaction to it. Above all, it had to be her decision, her words, that moved us. I wanted her to understand the consequences of our move—and perhaps the more devastating consequences of our staying. Because, while we all had to uproot the life that we'd been living over the past few years, she was the one who was leaving the most behind. Thankfully, Emmett was on my side.
"Eh, I really don't think we have to go yet, babe." Emmett said, coming over and throwing his arm over her shoulder. "I mean, sure, the res boys are sniffing around"—he paused and snorted at his own bad joke—"but that doesn't mean they are going to make a move. And even if they did, bring it on! As long as we don't cross over to their side—as long as we stick to what we've always done—they'll be the initiators. And we'll be on our turf."
He shot Bella a sympathetic look.
I'm trying to help, Edward, but even I can see the holes in this argument.
I nodded my thanks, but he was right. Carlisle sighed and Rose opened her mouth.
"We are the initiators, Emmett. At least Edward was. What difference does that all make now—lines and treaties—when we've already broken the biggest, most sensitive part of the treaty in the first place. You know, 'thou shall not bite another human?'"
"Rosalie is right, Emmett, I'm afraid," Carlisle interjected. "While we've not crossed their treaty lines, and have no intention of doing so, I'm afraid that they would view Bella's transformation as the most heinous of crimes. Their focus would likely no longer be protection, but retaliation. While we would not change it for anything in the world"—he reached over and grabbed Bella's hand while meeting my eyes and casting me a silent plea of understanding—"Bella's addition to our family has broken the treaty."
I watched Bella, wondering what was going on in her mind, once again. She'd been so quiet as we'd talked, simply listening and absorbing. She knew the theories, the stories, the past. Now, she was faced with the future. I wondered if she was sad, if she was angry, if she was afraid. I wished again that I had never changed her, but then in the same instant, my eyesight went black, my body felt like it would rip apart from the inside, and I thought I might die. No! I could never wish that.
"Well, I don't care about any of that," Esme said, sliding in beside Bella and wrapping her arms around her. "Damn the treaty. If it hadn't have been broken, we wouldn't have her. Whatever we do, it will be together." Bella looked up at her, almost overwhelmed, her returning smile not meeting her eyes. "And if it means we need to stay here to do it, so be it."
"Hell, yes!" Emmett boomed. Bella snorted, looking around to each of us. Her eyes fell on me. She looked away quickly.
"Is your vision still clouded, Alice?" Carlisle asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded.
"Yes. And no," she sighed. "There are holes, places that I can't see. I can't even try to search for them, of course. It's unusual, though I've never tried before now. I never had a reason too. But still, I don't know what it means."
"Do you think it is because of what they are?" I asked. She'd been wondering that herself over the last week, tossing about the idea that she couldn't see them because they existed on another realm entirely. I didn't necessarily believe that—Jasper and Carlisle didn't either. There had to be more to it than that.
"I think it must be," she said, "though we don't really know what they are, do we?" She growled in frustration. Alice without her gift was like…there was no Alice.
"Exactly," Emmett said, leaning his strong hands against the wooden table in front of him. "We don't know that we're dealing with the same things we did before. Hell, maybe these kids are just that—kids. Kids who want to get to the bottom of this, and think it's a good idea to threaten vampires with vigilante justice. There's no guarantee they even shift like their ancestors. They maybe aren't even capable after all this time."
"But we don't know that they are not!" Rose growled. "So they might not be shape-shifting dogs. They could still out us. Not that we'd know any of that, since Alice still can't see anything. We are wasting time here, when we could be leaving. We are blind here. And we're throwing all that we've worked so hard to protect right down the drain."
For a moment, there was silence as they each considered her words. She was right, and they all knew it. I knew it. Regardless of who the Quileutes were—whether they were simply fearless, foolhardy boys or shape-shifting wolves that would bring on a battle that would threaten us and our way of life—they were a danger to us. We needed to leave, so that that danger didn't seep into other areas of Forks. Who knew how far they would go if they learned of my deceit. Suddenly, the guilt hit me again, the full force of my actions bearing heavily on me. And it wasn't just about Bella, now.
A tiny cough, a clearing of a quiet throat caused all of us to look up.
"Can I say something?" Bella asked. When she accepted our questioning looks and quiet nods as invitation enough she stood. "I wanted to say I was sorry, first of all."
Before any of us could interject, her little hand rose with determination.
"No, please. Let me say this. I'm sorry that my introduction into the family has caused this. I really am. I never wanted to cause problems. But I really am glad that it ended up this way." She paused for a moment and looked at each of us. When her eyes met mine this time, she did not look away. "I know that you think that this is no life worth living"—she looked at Rose and then back at me, before returning to her speech and meeting all of our gazes—"but I see myself as a member of this family, at least, it feels that way to me. I know what you are all doing here, arguing about whether or not to stay or go. Even if you don't necessarily agree with what you're arguing."
She shot Emmett a poignant look, which he returned with a sheepish one.
"But," she continued, "you don't have to do that. I will hate to leave my father, but I can't be with him anymore, and I know that. Whether it's directly because of me, or because of something in our world, he's not safe. And I have to think of all of you. Because you are my family now. He will always be my father, but you are whom I need to stay with. And I know we can't stay here forever. If it is safer for us to go, to leave now, then we have to go. Please don't put all of yourselves—all of us—in danger because you think that I can't handle it. Because I can. I will."
I had no time to be in awe of her, my beautiful girl. Immediately, I was hit with a vision, a promise of what was to come. So intense in its nature, so vivid, I was almost transported by the clarity of it. I saw in Alice's mind the wave of the evening breeze through the trees outside the terrace, the gentle wind through Bella's mahogany hair, wafting the scent of baguettes and fresh water through her floral-sweet fragrance. I could almost feel the weight of her against me as I wrapped my arms around her and the uncommon pressure of my lips against her temple. In Alice's mind, I leaned into Bella, both of us sighing a contented breath, and looked out over the teeming city streets below, the towering structure of the Eiffel tower casting its hazy yellow glow onto the Seine. Her fingers entwined with mine, and for a moment, it was all so real when I closed my eyes it felt like I was there.
Alice's eyes met mine, wide and knowing. A smile lit her face.
"They are back!" She shrieked. Immediately, the room began teeming with life, all of us making our own plans, mapping out all that had to be done, how long it would take to complete it all. Where we would go. How much we each had to wrap up, and what could be left with loose ends.
Two days, Carlisle thought, the timeframe flashing absently through his mind. The more he pondered, the more it became certain. That was all that stood between myself and Alice's vision. Suddenly, nothing was more important than leaving Forks.
It was decided upon. Officially.
It was Thursday. By the break of dawn on Sunday morning, we would be somewhere else completely.
Two days would allow for all of us to organize proper paperwork that would change our identities for the next place. It would allow Jasper time to acquire new IDs, passports, pasts. In two days, the house could be more than organized for our departure. By that time, all could be moved and inventoried, stored away until we needed it or we could come back, whenever that may be. Two days would give Esme time to pack our most valuable paintings and pieces, and have them donated, anonymously, of course. Two days would take us to the weekend, to give us a head start, before Monday came and the world that we were leaving would begin again, bustling and full of life.
Two days would give Bella time to write a letter, and for me to slip it in her room, perhaps in a book or under a stack of paperwork. Hopefully someday, Charlie would find it, when his heart had healed, just a little, and when he least expected it. It was the least we could do.
Two days would be enough for Carlisle to put in his notice, though abrupt. It would allow him a chance to pass off his cases, and for him to say goodbye to one in particular that he'd been working on for far too long—one that even he couldn't change the outcome of. It had weighed so heavily on his mind of late, that I even hated to drag him away from the little, bright-eyed girl whose hand he'd held long after his shift had ended, in the quietness of the hospital. He'd thought of her often in the endless hours of our lifestyle, a tiny frail thing with long brown hair and long eyelashes over resilient brown eyes. As ever, Carlisle was affected more deeply by a child illness than any other, but he was powerless to stop it. I noticed, though, that he thought of her more since Bella had come into our lives. It was not a cognitive connection, but I was suddenly unable to stand the way his mind seemed to correlate the two girls, so different now, yet the same.
Her name was Lily, I'd come to find out. She was ten, and though she was unlikely to see eleven, one wouldn't know it by speaking to her. She was intelligent, well-spoken, had a quick wit that outshined most of the adults that surrounded her. Her little bald head was wrapped in scarves of all colors of the rainbow, and she drew pictures of sunbeams and clouds and bluebirds. She hated broccoli and loved pepperoni pizza, and had a cat named Mouse. And when someone cried, she told a joke so compelling that they began to forget the reason for their tears, even if just for a moment. When Carlisle came to visit she wrapped her arms around him and told him that she had missed him. She didn't mind the cold touch of his skin as he checked her vitals, though she told him he needed better circulation. And then she'd laugh. And she talked with him about heaven in the middle of the night when her parents were gone and all that could be heard was the beeping of the machines around her.
And she never cried or shuddered in fear of what was to come, her heart as strong as her body wasn't.
Carlisle wished he could take her with us. It was a fleeting thought from time to time. But he couldn't, and he knew that. He couldn't save her, despite the power of his venom, because there were rules. And he needed to protect his family. If he couldn't save Lily, at least he could save Bella.
Two days would give him enough time to tell her to be strong, to tell her how proud of her he was, and to deposit a hefty sum into her parents bank account that might help her get to the Seattle Children's Hospital—despite the fact that her parents could never afford that. Anonymously, of course.
In two days, we planned to leave this world that we'd all wanted to be a part of, behind.
She was so good at faking it, but I noticed. There was so much to do that the others may have been fooled because of their distractions, but I saw it so clearly. I felt it.
As we tried to make everything ready for our departure, she went along with it, but deep beneath the smiles and laughs and excitement of going somewhere new, I could tell that she was suffering from it.
Bella poured over her letter to the point that I began missing her. For hours, she wrote, jotting and scratching out things over and over again and rewriting until she was mentally exhausted. She kept it all to herself, though I'd never ask her to read it anyway. It was not for me, and truthfully, I didn't want to know what she told her father. I was better off not knowing.
Two days passed too quickly for her, though I was crawling the walls to leave. When Saturday afternoon finally came, she finished.
In preparation for our move, the rest of the family had gone to hunt, leaving Bella and I alone in the near-empty house. This final, satiating hunt was a necessity when we traveled. Moving on was always tricky. We prepared as much as we could, and having Alice was beneficial, but there were always potential unknowns, decisions that were out of even our hands. I encouraged Bella to go as well, knowing how important it was for her especially. As a newborn who had a tentative hold on her control, it would be vital to fill herself up as much as possible. I also hoped the hunt would alleviate some of her longing, at least for a little while, but she refused. Naturally, I stayed with her, promising my family we would go just before we left. The time might be good for us both.
Though we were alone in the house, I was trying to give her as much space as possible.
I was packing up the last of my books, when she appeared in the doorway, completed letter in hand. She passed it to me, and no words were necessary. I would go that night for her, and put it away for Charlie Swan to find.
"Where?" I asked her. She sighed deeply and bit her lip.
"There's a notebook. On my desk in my room. A purple one, with stars on the cover. Please put it there. Inside are some other old school assignments. Just in that stack is fine."
I could hear the sorrow in her voice. Though she'd left that life behind a little over a week and a half ago, it still hurt her deeply to do this. This was the final step in leaving her father behind. Someday, he'd find her letter. Someday, when he'd finally be able to go through her things without earth-shattering guilt and pain, he'd find it. And then he'd know everything she'd always meant to tell him but had never had the chance to say face-to-face.
And that was the most important thing to Bella—that her father knew how much she truly loved him.
I wondered about this—have wondered about it in all the time since—the deeply profound, unspoken love that Bella shared with her father. Neither one was overly emotional with the other, spouting 'daddy's and 'little princess's and 'I love you's, but I could tell just from what I witnessed that their bond was monumental. Bella spent most of her childhood with her mother, and while she loved her deeply, her sudden separation from her father was the one that hurt her the most. Perhaps she knew that her mother would heal with less guilt, that she wouldn't forever blame herself like Charlie would. Or perhaps, Bella was so much like him that she fully understood him, making his pain more poignant. Whatever it was, she felt the need fix him, if only a little bit.
It was Bella's idea to write this letter in the form of an old homework assignment. She hoped he wouldn't think anything of it until later. She hoped, when the timing was right, he'd look through her things and find it, when he was trying to make a connection to her again. Now was not the right time, but maybe later, when he was looking through what was left of her possessions for the memories they evoked rather than the answers they lacked. Maybe at that point, she reasoned, he would be ready to read it and not try to find the hidden meaning in it, as if she were trying to leave him a secret message. Even though that's exactly what she was trying to do.
"Anything else?" I asked, searching her eyes for my own secret message.
"No. Just the letter," she sighed. She was still for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes searched out the window into the cool, grey day. "He sleeps pretty soundly. At least he did. Maybe not so much now. But he snores. When he's snoring, he's really asleep."
A soft, loving smile was playing on her lips as she rambled. She finally looked at me and frowned.
"Just be careful," she whispered.
"I will," I promised. "You father will never know I'm there."
"I know," she sighed. "I really know."
By the time Esme and Carlisle had returned, it was night, and Bella had retreated again. I knew where she was at all times. My body tracked her as if she was part of it, but I could not see into her mind like the others, and I had no way to know where her insecurities lay. I wished I knew what she was up to in this big empty house, all alone and quiet. More than that though, I wished I could help. For now, all I could do was set the letter in place and hope it would give her some solace.
I left her there with my parents, knowing they would watch out for her, and that when I returned, I could give her some much-needed succor.
We will watch her, son, Carlisle thought. Go do this for her so she has some closure.
He was thinking of me, too, and how I never had that kind of opportunity. His guilt so mirrored mine, I wish I had understood it sooner.
I made my way over to her house quickly, dashing through the darkness on foot. The world was at rest, that near-perfect quiet of the night. In houses throughout Forks, people were dreaming. I could see the pictures in their heads, flashes of their memories, fears, desires—like a kaleidoscope of their sleeping lives. Dreams were not complete or cognitive like a person's direct thoughts. As I passed the homes of those resting, I only saw glimpses of their minds. None of them mattered. It wasn't until I reached Charlie Swan's home that any of them weighed heavily on me.
Up in the bedroom, Charlie was asleep. Bella was right—he snored. But his sleep was not restful, only what his body needed to maintain the constant assault that it had been going through. Since Bella's disappearance, he barely ate; he got no real rest, even when his eyes managed to close. Carlisle had not been honest with Bella, at least by not telling her everything. Charlie was a wreck, his mind beating the hell out of his body. In his fitful brief rest, I saw how terrifying his mind had been since Bella had gone. He was dying right along with her. Only, he wasn't actually going to die from it. He only wished for it.
I allowed myself just a moment of his mind despite the fact that I knew it was a bad idea. He was dreaming of her, of a day from her childhood—one of the few times he had her with him. It was so shockingly clear like nothing I'd ever noticed before. She couldn't have been more than eight, young and awkward, but still completely my beautiful Bella. My still heart clenched at the sight of her childhood, something I would never see again. Bella was laughing, Charlie's mind playing out the moment in slow motion as she skipped and giggled. Her child-like exuberance was that of pure light and joy radiating from her in a way that I had no idea humans could actually see. In that second of his thoughts, I saw how much he always loved her and how he always thought of her, even when she was away with her mother. And then she tripped and fell the way children do. Suddenly, she was no longer a little girl, but a young woman—my young woman—and she was falling to the point that Chief Swan could not ever catch her.
His mind went hazy after that, and I couldn't even make out a moment of it any longer. He tossed and turned, but wouldn't wake. His body would not give up the few precious hours of sleep.
For a long while, I was shock still, knowing I'd caused this. I shared the grief with this man of all that Bella would never be, ever again. Charlie Swan would never see her again, never see her bright and sparkling smile, never hear her laugh. And I knew he worried that he might forget what it sounded like to hear her call him "Dad," because I would have worried about missing the sound of her voice, even despite my vampire memory, if I were ever faced with losing her. I understood then why Bella was so sad.
I was reminded of my task. I looked up at her window. It was a place I never expected to be, but I couldn't deny the fact that I was excited by the prospect of being there, surrounded by pieces of her. I leapt up to her window and pried open the pane.
Bella's room was an assault, the air whooshing out and nearly paralyzing me. I instantly regretted the decision not to hunt with the rest of my family. I was unprepared for how badly I began to crave Bella's blood, despite the fact that I could never have her in that way. I had not felt this way since returning to find her crashed on the side of the road. I gripped the window frame, and heard it groan beneath my fingers. I saw in brilliant shades of scarlet, and it reminded me of the way her body, all broken and ready for me, begged to my demon nature. My mouth watered with the thought of her blood flowing through me and making me stronger than I'd ever been. I could taste her and I felt the memory of her decadent heartbeat drumming in my ears. And I wanted to rip her apart and drink her down and laugh with the freedom of it. I wanted her blood to fill me to my tongue and teeth. And how easy it would be to go next door and drink down the man that had spawned her, who smelled close enough to her that it might begin to satisfy me…
It was Bella who stopped me. The memory of her in the meadow, brows furrowed as she flew through the pages of her book. Bella, who was home right now, ready to walk away from all of it—for us, for me. Bella, who had the most adorable tendency to bite down on her lip and an infectious laugh when she was a little girl. Bella, who would never forgive me if I drained the most important man of her life. Bella, whom I loved.
It was not without extraordinary effort that I beat this beast away. He was terrifying and strong, but the idea that I might lose her was enough to make me lose my appetite for her blood. I thanked whomever would listen that her blood could no longer directly tempt me. My vision focused again.
With new clarity, I looked around her room. It was understated and feminine without being pretentiously girly. Lavenders and violets and delicate blues were spattered throughout the room, and I could see her in it, almost as if she were there with me. The room was Bella, not the blood donor, but Bella the young woman, who should have been in that room breathing at that moment. She was everywhere where she'd never be again.
I removed the letter from my pocket and quickly found the notebook. It was exactly where she said it would be. Inside were a collection of returned papers: a calculus test that she'd scored fairly well on; a practice sheet from the Biology class I'd left her in so many months before; a paper she'd written on the duality of Hamlet's character. I flipped through, noting her attention to detail, the way she spoke so authoritatively, her obvious love and hate of certain characters. My beautiful girl was intelligent and eloquent. I had no right, but I swelled with emotion and pride.
Leaving the letter felt like a weight was lifted off of me. I hoped, miles away, Bella was feeling relief that the task was being accomplished. I breathed in heavily, allowing the scent of Bella's past life to fill me, steady me, make me whole.
I was reeling from Bella's presence there. And to be honest, despite the fact that I don't think I could ever hurt Charlie Swan for Bella's sake, it was a dangerous game I was playing just by continuing to stand there. But I couldn't help it.
This room contained all that was ultimately left of Bella's old life. I had things all over the world, stored away for whenever I might return to them, accounts scattered in every country with a variety of names as their holders. But this tiny little room was all that Bella had—it was everything that Bella had been. It felt important for me to be there.
I slowly walked around the room, taking in everything more acutely. It was neat and tidy, her clothes put away, her books stacked or shelved, of which there were many. I wasn't surprised. An ancient computer sat on the desk. I was almost tempted to turn it on and look at everything that it contained—I wondered if it would give me more insights into Bella's mind—but I worried about how long it would take, and I didn't have the luxury of too much time.
Over her desk was a bulletin board. There were pictures, trinkets, notes to herself. In the middle was a picture of Bella on a pier in the sunlight, her arm around a petite, older woman. I assumed this was her mother. Bella got her frame and her smile from her—her deep, warm eyes came from Charlie. In the picture, they were smiling and I could see the affection that seemed to radiate between them. But even still, despite that Bella was obviously younger, she looked like the one supporting her mother. She looked like the rock that kept it all together. I wondered if she missed that kind of life.
There were pictures of some of the students at the school, another of Bella's mother and her new husband, and one of Bella and a younger Quileute boy with long hair and round features. I assumed this was the Jacob that she was so fond of. I snorted in disgust, wondering what she really saw in him. There was a pair of concert tickets attached with a pushpin, a ribbon award for excellent academic achievement, and a variety of trinkets. I pulled a few of the items off and put them in my pocket, including pictures of her father and an elderly woman who shared her features, and filled it all in again so that it looked like nothing had been disturbed.
My fingertips trailed over her lavender bedspread, all neatly made. Two soft pillows lay abandoned at the head of the bed, an intricate dream catcher hanging above. I traced my fingers over the strings, felt the feathers slip through my fingers. There was no doubt where she'd gotten this, and I regretted that she even needed it in the first place. Little had she known that she would become the monster that haunted her dreams. But then, Bella wasn't a monster.
She'd never lay her head here again, but I wondered what it would have been like to see her there, her mahogany hair fanned out over the pillow. I wondered if she was restless, if she snored like her father, if she kicked her blankets off and tossed and turned. I wonder if she spoke in her sleep. I wonder if she ever dreamed of me. I wondered what she slept in.
I chided myself instantly, the way my thought's had wandered so quickly into red-hot impropriety. That was nothing but a fleeting fantasy—she never even knew me. How could she dream of me, want me, the way I wanted her? The way I wanted her, I realized later, even when I wanted her blood. I wondered if she ever dreamed of this Jacob. My chest burned where my heart once beat.
I picked up the open book on her bedside table. Wuthering Heights. It was well-worn, the pages dog-eared and stained, as if she'd read it over and over. It was open to chapter fifteen, where Catherine begs Heathcliff for his forgiveness before she dies—she could not leave this world without his love. As much as I hated the story, how despicable the characters were, I could understand that sentiment. I would beg for the rest of eternity if it meant her forgiveness for my crimes. Her love, someday. Could she ever grant me that where Heathcliff could not?
I grabbed a few more classics and set them aside to take back to her. I retrieved a few pairs of her sweatpants and a few shirts. She seemed to favor these types of clothing, despite how much of a fight Alice put up. If Alice had it her way, Bella would be her walking doll, to dress as she pleased. It hardly mattered as far as comfort went what we wore, since fabric was in no way constricting, but Bella still preferred what most would consider lounging clothes. I hoped it would make her happy to have them.
On the top shelf of her closet, tucked in the back, was a small cigar box. I don't know why I reached for it, or why I was drawn to it, but I pulled it down. When I opened it, I knew I had to take it back to her.
Like the rest of her room, it contained pieces of her, but somehow it was more intimate. There was an aged photo of her mother and father, young and in love. It was something she kept hidden, tucked away but treasured. There was a delicate lace handkerchief, folded into a small square, a tiny "M" embroidered in the corner. A locket, the chain all twisted and knotted, lay at the bottom of the box, inscribed "To my Helen, Love Geoffrey." There was a vial of sand, the bottle scribbled in marker Riverside, CA. Another small vial contained rough red pebbles, and said Phoenix. There was an old, weathered badge—"Deputy Swan." There was a postcard from Florida written in messy hand. There were a few antique rings, a playbill for Midsummer Nights Dream, and a baby picture of the most beautiful child I'd ever seen with warm chocolate eyes. I removed the pictures and mementos I'd taken off the board and placed them inside.
I found an empty bag in her closet and piled all the items in. On her dresser was a small glass jar of pins, which I emptied into the bottom of her drawer. It would make the perfect container for a little bit of Forks. With bag in hand, I looked around the room one final time. It was as if I were saying goodbye to Bella's life as much as she, a life I'd never been part of. With a final deep inhale of Bella's flavor, I jumped out the window, landing in the dirt below. Beneath Bella's window, I reached down and dug out some of the soft earth, placing it in the jar and sealing it tightly. I knew it wasn't much, but I hoped it would be somewhat of a relief to her, that she had a little bit of her home with her.
Time was running out to give her more.
When I returned home, I put the items I'd brought home for Bella in my car. I paused at the door on my way back in, breathing in deeply and taking a moment to ground myself. I reveled in the feeling of being almost whole again.
The house was so still, despite the fact that everyone was in it. Jasper's thoughts were carefully monitoring Bella's whereabouts, as he tried to steady himself against her ability. It was still so difficult for him at times, this feeling of push and pull a constant assault. It was especially straining for him now, our leaving looming. It would only be a few more hours now, as Alice saw.
Each member of my family was readying themselves for our departure. In general, we took very little with us—only the most important things that could fit in our vehicles. So there was not too much left to do. Our documents were in order, our cars already switched to new registration. In some cases, we simply left, our bodies and a few bags all we took with us. Many times we traveled on foot, since it was fastest. This time, however, since we had Bella with us, we planned on driving all the way to Northern Canada, to the place we'd chosen as our next location. It wasn't the most inconspicuous way to travel with all of us in expensive cars, but more often than not, we weren't running from anything. Usually, no one would be looking for us when we left. Now, I wasn't so sure that was the case this time.
At first, Bella had a hard time wrapping her mind around this strange way of moving. For the past two days, she'd been busying herself with real packing. The truth of the matter for us was that when we moved on, we began all new lives. There were some things we couldn't bear to part with of course—I had some sheet music and a few mementos from my own human life—but it wasn't much. We only took what was easy to carry. They were reminders of who we'd been—who we were.
The rest of our things were either donated or left. There was a chance we would come back to a place someday, so from a distance, Esme hired someone to pick it up and store it away for us. Other things that could be easily replaced, like our clothes, were dropped off to charity before we left town. Anonymously, of course.
Now, as I returned with news of the task that I completed for her, Bella was busying herself with packing up what was left of the clothing. Emmett was waiting to take the last few boxes to the Goodwill in town.
Bella stood at the dryer, pulling pieces out as slowly as her reflexes would allow. Her hair was piled on her head haphazardly, pinned up and away from her shoulders with bobby pins, music playing from an ipod attached to her. If I didn't know better, she would look like any young woman doing daily chores. But despite the fact that I knew better, something was off. She was distracted. Her movements were uneven, as she paused now and then to contemplate everything that was happening, gripping the warm clothes in her hands and inhaling their scent. I leaned against the doorframe, just watching her. Part of me was deeply saddened by everything that we'd—I'd—had to put on her shoulders. I had done her a disservice, despite how fervently she'd argue with me about it. I had made her like me, and forever doomed her to my life. But still, I couldn't imagine living without her now, and that's what I would be doing had I not turned her. It was a war within me, constantly.
I could have stood there watching her forever, as she absentmindedly folded laundry into the large box at her feet. Her hips swayed softly to the music coming out of the earbuds stuck in her ear. It was a false sense of peace, her body moving to the pulsing beat. It was as if she were trying to fool herself, but I knew that the joy was false. She was suffering silently—resigned to everything, but despondant. The more I watched her, the more I was pulled in by her spell.
I vowed never to let her down in this way again. Never again.
Something stirred in me while I watched her sway, something that was far from protective and innocent. She still had not noticed me, and she began to lose herself in the music. The fluidity in which she moved was haunting, her little body so graceful where I know she had not been before. This action, the dance she was doing, was so out of her normal comfort zone, so unlike her in so many ways, yet still perfect and right. She was stunning, mesmerizing, and as I watched her, I wished more and more that Alice's vision of us—the one I had no right to want—would come true. I could only imagine what it would like to feel her dance with me like that in my arms, our bodies pressed against each other with nothing between us to hinder the warmth of our bodies. I wanted that so badly, I ached for it. Never before had I wanted one of Alice's visions to be so true.
She noticed me out of the corner of her eye then and halted. She pulled the earbuds out, obviously embarrassed by my watching her.
"Edward," she breathed, spinning quickly. The sound reverberated through me like a quake. She covered herself, as if she were naked, her hands crossing over herself. It was only then that I really noticed what she was wearing. Her legs were sheathed in a pair of black, clingy leggings that showed of her strong calves and powerful thighs. And she wore my shirt, a white cotton button-down that I'd discarded earlier.
It was far too big on her, too loose for me to have inappropriate thoughts about her clothing choice. But there was something overtly sexy about her wearing my clothes. Knowing that her bare skin was touching where mine had been made me growl deep in my throat.
"You're wearing my shirt," I said, and for a moment her eyes widened in what could have been fear. I stalked toward her, and she backed herself up against the dryer. She watched me, and the way that she was looking at me made me feel like the animal that I was.
"Sorry," she whispered, but the fear I had imagined was not in her voice and it wasn't entirely sincere sounding. She pressed herself against the machine so that she was leaning away from me, but her hips pressed into mine . I couldn't help my hand, as I reached out and touched the collar of the shirt. Had she been alive, perhaps I would have enjoyed the rampant way her heart should have been beating in her chest. For just a second, she was my prey again. My eyes followed the route of my hand down her collarbone around to the dip in her throat. She was so still. When I looked into her eyes, she was looking at me so intently it made my knees weak, my breathing hitch.
We stayed like that for a moment, stuck in the suspense. I wanted to take her in my arms, kiss her, love her. She was beautiful, perfect, and soon we'd be on our way to a new life, leaving behind everything that was tying us down. Soon, there would be nothing but the future for us. I closed my eyes and envisioned that potential with her again. It was everything to me. I hadn't wanted anything more since I'd craved Bella's blood.
And because of that, I stopped myself. I was on the edge, a feeling I was not comfortable with. Why was she always making me feel so out of control? How was it that this little creature could disarm me like no one ever could before? My desire for her was raging, too far gone.
And that wasn't fair. There was too much going on, too much I was asking of her this day. There was no way I wanted to complicate things more with all that needed to be accomplished. This would be too much, and I had no right to ask her for it, no matter how much I wanted it. Even if there was a chance that she wanted it too someday, today was not the day for it.
My vision cleared and I stepped back from her. For a second, I thought perhaps I saw a hint of disappointment on her face, but then it was gone in a flash, and she was smiling back at me as if none of it had happened. She quirked her eyebrow at me.
"I'm sorry," she said in a saccharine tone. "Did you want it back?" She was teasing me, playing with me, a sweet smile on her lips. But her tone was laced slightly with anger. She turned away from me, and continued to fold clothes. I couldn't move. I was ashamed of the way I had acted. She sighed, and turned around. "Help me with these, please?"
I didn't say anything, but moved to help her fill the last of the boxes. We worked side by side, both of us quiet, until Jasper came to get us.
Edward, Edward, Edward, he chided in my head. Of course he would know the feelings going on inside of me.
"Carlisle suggests it's time for you two to go," he said from the doorway, referring to the hunt that Bella and I still needed to go on. Time was running out. As the minutes when by, we were closer than I think she ever imagined we'd be to leaving. Bella turned and breathed deeply. I could see the emotions warring on her face.
"Let's go get this over with," she said, taking my hand and leading me out and away into the woods.
Bella had been relentless in the hunt. It had been obvious to me that she was taking out her sadness, aggression, and fear on our kills. After draining two elk and a deer, she was spent. We hardly spoke the entire time, and it frightened me.
When we returned, the family gave her space again. There was nothing left to do, but they could all tell how precious the moments were to her. Even though they were few.
Everything that could be done was done. Everyone was waiting, ready to leave Forks.
I found Bella alone, looking out the large picture windows. The bright moonlight was shining through the window, casting light into the nearly-empty room that was more like a shell than a home. Soon, it would be morning. Everywhere, the world would be waking. We would be gone, far away. She didn't turn when I came in, and I came up close behind her. I allowed her a moment to look out over the last and first home she'd ever have.
She leaned back against me. I could feel the deep breath she took, and I closed my eyes and breathed her in too. I hated what I was asking of her, that I had caused the melancholy in her. But I couldn't shake the image of her in my arms, the Parisian wind blowing around us, melding us together. It felt so right to be pressed against her now, like a little taste of that dream.
"It's time," I whispered. Bella turned and looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes. It was only there for a moment, before she accepted it. There was strength in her answering stare, despite how much she was suffering, an understanding that this was what lay in our future—over and over again. Perhaps, there might have even been a hint of excitement.
"I'm ready," she said, and looped her fingers through mine. I found my own strength in the touch of her palm against my own. With a gentle smile, she gave my hand a soft squeeze.
Just as we were turning to go, I was bombarded.
Alice's clear vision of our future turned abruptly. I'd been watching, and all the while, we'd been arriving in Canada safely. But now, I was met with a mixture of images, flashing through her mind like a slipped reel, all of them uncertain. I dropped Bella's hand and ran out to the yard, her close on my tail.
"Edward!" Jasper was screaming for me, his body alit with the emotions coming off of his wife, who was lying on the ground, her hands over her head. It was too much, and her mind was caving in on itself with unrecognizable images. The other members of the family, and Bella, who had been trying to understand what had suddenly happened when Alice collapsed to the ground, sprung into action a moment later.
"Alice," Carlisle said, kneeling down beside her, "what is it?" He was frightened from this. Even when she had been debilitated by the Quileutes presence, it had not hurt her in this way. He had never seen this, and even his vast mind had no way to know how to help her. Carlisle was not sure what to do. That frightened me.
Jasper was trying to hold on to her with his ability, but Alice was all over the place. She was panicky and in pain. He was chanting to himself like a mantra, but he could feel her slipping from him, her burden too much. It was throwing us all off, and we were suffering right along with them as Jaspers emotions bounced through all of us.
Bella grabbed my arm, trying to steady herself as I held on to her just as tightly.
But then the images suddenly stopped. Like a still lake, all was quiet in her mind. Alice looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes.
"Gone," she choked.
In that instant, I heard them. A multitude of voices filled my head—ones I had never heard before. They were something otherworldly, neither vampire nor human, as if they were echoing amongst themselves like a hive. I had no time to explain to the others, because in that moment, they knew too that our timing had been just a little off, that we were just too late.
The smell of earth and wet animal drifted through the trees like a haze. It was pungent, and I knew there was no way we could go without detection now. They would follow us, be too close, and the only way for us would be to separate. And that would be too dangerous.
"We are too late," Alice said, though this was not because she could see it. Her vision was as blank as the day the Quileutes had visited. It was terrifying to experience it firsthand. "I'm so sorry."
Questions bombarded me from all directions—How many? How far? Where? What can we do?—but my only concern was Bella. I pulled her close, needing her. My family had not fought for a long time, but we could manage ourselves so it be necessary. Bella had never seen anything like what might come to pass there, and one wrong move might mean I could lose her. They would not be lenient on her, despite the resemblance to Charlie Swan.
"What's going on, Edward?' she begged, searching my eyes for answers I couldn't give.
"We have company," I told her. "Stay close to me. No matter what, don't leave my side." I only hoped she listened.
Just as quickly as we'd been thrown off in chaos, we gathered together and readied ourselves for whatever was upon us.
"They are close," I whispered. "Seven, maybe eight of them. One mile to the northwest."
"Only eight? No big deal," Emmett whispered, but I heard the doubt in his voice. We were blind without Alice, and we had no idea what we were dealing with. Despite his jovial surety on the outside, he feared for us all. We knew only that these creatures were born to protect their land from us. Even though we were undoubtedly stronger, there was danger in dealing with them. We could be taken by surprise—we could be harmed. It was a potential threat that none of us, especially Emmett, wanted to take on. There was too much at stake.
"We should run, leave everything," Rose said. In her mind, she saw us fleeing, but then in the same moment, she wondered if we could truly outrun them. And what would happen if we couldn't.
"No," Carlisle said. "We can't now. Perhaps they are not looking for a fight. We are only assuming." Behind his spoken words he was saying a prayer. Please, Lord, let no harm come to my family, whom I love…
Everyone looked at me. I was listening to these intruders. Their collective thoughts were organized, as if they were a precision unit, born to battle.
"No. They are definitely not here on a social call this time."
The trees shifted and groaned agonizingly as they passed them. Their scent increased. It was like a weight on my chest. I could hear them now, one by one. They were focused, and they were coming for one thing.
I looked down at Bella, whose large, crimson eyes were watching me intently, as if she could see inside my mind. They were coming for her. This group of little more than children had every intention of finding her. Their thoughts were mixed about what the outcome would be in that—as a collective, they thought of nothing but death. But one or two were praying that Bella would not be here, that this visit would be futile.
"They are coming for you," I told her. "Whatever you do, stay close. Don't leave me," I begged. I meant more than for her not to leave my side in that moment.
"We will not let them hurt you, dear. No matter what happens, we are together." Esme kissed Bella's head and squeezed into Carlisle's side, their fingers lacing together in silent love.
The wolves emerged from the trees, all spread out. They were large, so much so that they dwarfed the wolves from my families' memories. These wolves were not like their ancestors. They were giant like Clydesdales, looming over the earth like dangerous beasts. I could hear the surprise in all of our minds at these creatures.
"Well, damn," Emmett whistled.
It was as if the world slowed. They stood for a moment, taking in the eight of us. As a collective, they roared in anger, each one of them finding Bella, standing close behind me. There was seething anger, desperate angst, real physical pain in their minds. It was a blow to their long-standing ancestry, a failure on their part. Some of them howled and pounded the ground with their giant paws, the trees shaking from the force of it. They mewled and whined and begged their leader for retribution. They saw nothing but our destruction, and they imagined our bodies strewn across the lawn, pyres of smoke blackening the skies with our ashes. Bella's too.
But then, one lone boy emerged from behind them, coming to a stop just outside the line of the trees. This one was not a wolf. His face was young, no older than sixteen, I guessed, but his body was that of a man. It took me a moment to recognize him, as he looked so much different than what I'd seen in Bella's picture.
"Jacob," Bella whispered behind me, her voice not hiding her surprise and fear and regret. She recognized the fact that we were standing on very different ground from her once-friend. She recognized that she didn't share all his secrets as she had perhaps once thought.
Even from so far away, he heard her. It took him just a second to recognize the difference in her melody, the way her voice sounded like the sweetest music now. I saw images of her in his head, alive, warm, heart beating. And he imagined that it was beating for him. He imagined that when she touched his arm in his memory, she was showing quiet love for him. He saw her, soft and glowing in the sunlight, as they talked and laughed and he fell in love with her. And I felt the agony of seeing her like this, standing with us, cold and pale and lifeless. Dead.
The pain that radiated from him staggered me—not only from the fact that it had already affected Jasper so, but because his pain was so acute. This boy thought that he knew what it was like to lose the only thing his heart beat for. I couldn't believe we feared the same thing.
"No," he choked, his voice strangled. There was no hope in him now.
It happened quickly then. His pain morphed him, his body exploding with the red-hot anger that he felt for us, limbs and fur and claws shifting. He steadied himself for a second, and then his voice rang strong with blinding fury. The transformation surprised us all, but I was not surprised by their minds.
That's it then, he told them.
Kill them, the collective echoed. Destroy them all.
They rushed forward together, their bodies moving in tandem towards us. We braced ourselves.
Even without Alice's vision, I foresaw our end, and I only prayed that there was a heaven waiting for us.
.
.
.
End Notes: First of all, I'd like to give all of my readers a sincere apology for taking so long. This past year has seen my life completely flip and turn upside-down (I think I just had a Fresh Prince moment…) and I am so grateful that there are those of you who are still willing to read this story. I won't bore you with the details, but I hope that you will continue with me despite my hiatus.
I also want to thank you. To the old readers who have found the story again and have been an inspiration, and to the new ones, whose recent, wonderful comments managed to wake my butt up and remind me that there are those of you out there who would still like to know where I planned to take these guys all along. So thanks. More than you could ever imagine.
I can't promise that I will update every single week on the nose, but I have been working on the story these last few weeks, and I have a buffer set up. The next few chapters are well on their way to being done, allowing me some leeway. I can't tell you I have a schedule set up, but I will promise I won't abandon this story.
So, thanks, sorry, and there's more to come—be on the lookout! Leave me a message/review if you are so inclined. All my love to you guys!