Paris, 1950

The war is over and Paris is alive again with artists, writers and musicians. Rosalie Hale has come abroad to study in this exciting and romantic city, but instead she vanishes without a trace. Now her best friend Bella has come on her own to find her. She teams up with Rose's spunky roommate, and they are joined in the search by an American businessman, a battle-scarred reporter, and a handsome painter with his own mysterious past. Following a trail of clues left behind by Rose's letters, they plunge into the dark side of the City of Lights. Who is Royce? What secrets is he hiding? Why did Rose really leave? The search for Rose and life in Paris might just change Bella in ways she never imagined.

Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is our original work. Copyright 2009 by spanglemaker9 and justaskalice. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without our express written authorization.

I stood there frozen for a long moment, my hands clamped tightly around her shoulders as Bella sobbed, her eyes squeezed shut.

"What do you mean, you found her?" I finally asked.

"Don't get mad," she moaned softly.

My teeth clenched and I concentrated on not digging into her shoulders with my fingers. "What happened?" I ground out from between my teeth.

"I f-followed Royce this morning."

"What?!"

"Please..." she begged, her voice just a raspy whisper.

I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose sharply, "Alright."

"He went to another house… off Boulevard St. Germain. I waited until he left and I knocked…"

"Yes?"

Bella finally opened her eyes and met mine. Her huge dark eyes were flooded with pain. The sight made my chest constrict.

"It…it was Rose…I saw her there…"

"Darling, what happened? What did she say to you?" I made my voice as soft as possible, because I scarcely recognized the trembling, broken girl in front of me. Something truly awful must have happened.

Bella couldn't get any more words out, and her sobs overtook her again. We were still standing on the dim, dusty landing at the foot of the stairs to the garret, and it was clear to me now that she was still too distraught to get any useful information out. I needed to calm her down first. I slipped my arm around her shoulder and half-led, half-carried her up the stairs. I pulled her across the room to the bed and sat, gently pulling her down next to me. I pushed her coat from her shaking shoulders and tossed it on the chair. Her sobs hadn't ceased and her whole body was sagging, nearly doubling over on itself. I scooted back so I was reclining, my shoulders propped up on the headboard, and pulled her with me until she was stretched out along side of me. She dropped her head onto my chest, fisted her hand into my shirt and wept uncontrollably for several long minutes. There was nothing I could do but stroke her hair and whisper reassuring nonsense words in her ear.

"Love," I murmured, "tell me what happened. I want to help."

She drew a deep shuddering breath and she choked out a few muffled words. "It was so awful, Edward. She told me to leave, to forget all about her…that she was never coming home…she said I was just jealous…and, Edward…oh, God, Edward….she's pregnant. Rose is pregnant."

Bella fell apart again on the last word, sobbing as if her heart here breaking.

My blood ran cold. Of course. There had to be a reason the girl vanished. That bastard had gotten her in trouble. But the rest didn't make any sense. Why would she be so cruel to Bella? From everything Bella had told me of Rose and their close friendship, it didn't sound at all like her. Could Bella have been so wrong about her all this time?

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I murmured against the top of her head as I rubbed circles on her back. Because what else could I really say? She had come halfway around the world to find Rose only to be shown the door. Her heart was breaking and it made mine break as well.

I don't know how long we laid there, Bella curled into my side weeping while I just held her and comforted her, before she gradually quieted. The weeping had subsided, but she still said nothing, she just drew occasional long shuddering breaths and worked her fist around the fabric of my shirt. I hated how upset she was, but I couldn't deny that it felt good to have her need me this way.

Finally she sighed deeply and spoke, her voice low and raspy.

"I don't even know what to do anymore. I came all this way, I've been trying to find her for so long, and now…."

I squeezed her shoulders to encourage her to go on.

"I gave up everything for her. I left my parents without a word, I left school... I won't graduate now. Oh, God, I spent all my savings! I kept thinking that once I found her, she could pay to get us home. I don't have any money!"

The dawning realization of her situation made her voice frantic. I reached up quickly to run my hand down her face, trying to soothe her.

"Shh, it's okay, Bella. You're not alone. You have Alice. You have Esme and Carlisle. You have me. You won't be out on the streets. I'll take care of you. It will be alright, I promise. Just…let's not think about the details any more today, alright? You can think about it tomorrow, once you've had a rest."

It was true that I wanted her to calm down, get some sleep, before she started thinking about what came next, but honestly I couldn't bear to hear her talk about it yet. With no Rose to find, what was holding her here in Paris? She might just call her parents tomorrow to wire her the money and get on the next ship back to the States. My chest began to contract painfully at the thought, making me panic slightly. Anything to hold off that horrific possibility for another day.

She softened against me and sighed deeply.

"Thank you, Edward."

"Nonsense, Bella. I don't need your thanks," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She shifted, pushed herself up until she was half-sitting, holding herself up on her arms, so she could see my face. Her beautiful expressive brown eyes were glassy with tears and puffy. Her skin was pale and her elegant hairstyle had completely fallen, leaving her hair tangled and wild around her shoulders. She was absolutely lovely.

"No, you do," she said, insistently, reaching out to place her hand against my cheek. "You've done so much for me, Edward. I just…I don't even know how to thank you."

I smiled softly at her which prompted a tiny, weak smile from her in return, and that made me feel infinitely better. I leaned forward a little and kissed her gently. Bella leaned into me, kissing me back. I was terrified of what came next between us, terrified of losing her, but when she kissed me like this, all those concerns faded away. I could only feel Bella.

We tangled together for an interminable time, her hands sliding through my hair, my fingers skimming down her face, our lips pressing, nipping, tasting. Then I felt Bella's fingers slip down my neck to my chest. There was a rustle of movement between us and I realized that Bella was unbuttoning my shirt. The thinking part of my brain knew that this was all wrong, that she didn't want this, at least not now, not like this. But then she freed the third button and her warm little hands slid under the fabric, against my abdomen and I was lost. Her fingers made quick work of the last two buttons and then she was pushing my shirt back and off my shoulders. I shrugged free of it and moaned, rolling us so that she was under me, kissing her with all the desire and urgency I felt.

My hands were acting of their own accord, grasping the back of her calf, pulling her leg up, pushing her skirt aside so I could run my fingers up her leg to where her stocking ended and her silky skin began. She gasped at the sensation and I left her mouth, moving to kiss her neck, the curve of her jaw, the hollow at the base of her throat. I shifted back to kiss her lips as my fingers landed on the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse, and I paused, needing her to tell me this was alright.

"Bella?"

She froze underneath me.

"Oh, God…" Bella moaned, suddenly jerking herself to the side, away from me.

"Bella, stop," I rasped, reaching out for her, trying to hold her against me. My thinking was clouded but I knew this had just gone wrong and I couldn't let her panic and run away.

"No," she cried, rearing off the bed, pushing her skirt down, her eyes frantic. "No, no, no. This is the price, isn't it?"

"Price? What price?" I sat up, raking a hand through my hair, struggling to keep up with where she was going, my heart still pounding its way out of my chest.

"You said you'd help me, that you'd take care of me, but at what cost, Edward? Is this how you want me to repay you?" Her face was twisted and she looked anywhere but at me. I flinched as if her words had physically struck me, because that's how it felt.

"Bella, no…"

"This place," she went on, scrambling for her shoes that she'd lost when we'd sat down on the bed, "it makes me do things that aren't…me. You make me do things that aren't me. I had a life before all this!" She waved her hand absently at the skylight and the Paris skyline beyond it. "And then I came here and it's like I forgot everything that was ever important to me."

She snatched her coat up off the chair and stuffed her arms roughly in the sleeves. Her hands were shaking. I couldn't believe what she was saying, her hurt, her anger…at me. I felt sick, in real physical pain. All I could do was sit there and let her spill it all out on me. I couldn't seem to catch up, I couldn't figure out how we'd gotten here from where we were just minutes ago. She was about to walk out of here, I could feel it, and yet I couldn't find the words to make her stay. The horrible constriction in my chest wouldn't let me find any words at all.

"Well, it's not going to happen to me, I swear it! I just need to get out of here…somewhere where I can think. And I need to…to get things back on track…" She was shaking her head, not even really talking to me anymore. She found her handbag where she'd left it by the door.

"Bella, please don't go." It was all I could squeeze out around the painful weight in my chest.

She shook her head absently, as if to clear it. "I have to," she whispered. Then she was through the door and her light footsteps were clattering down the garret stairs.

I sat hunched on the bed where she'd left me, staring at the door. I could scarcely breathe around this tightness in my chest, this hollow emptiness that still felt like it would crush me. Her words, what she'd accused me of…she had to know it wasn't like that. Didn't she? Couldn't she tell by now how I felt about her? Couldn't she feel that I loved her?

Loved her?

I sat up, stunned by the emotion that settled so surely around me. I loved Bella. Yes, I did. It didn't make any sense. We'd only known each other a fortnight, we lived across the world from each other. But none of that made it less true. I loved her.

She was going to do whatever she felt she needed to now, but suddenly I knew I couldn't let her leave without telling her. She had to know how I felt. I had to at least do that much.

I lurched up off the bed, snatching my shirt off the floor, wondering how much of a head start she'd gotten. I lost track of time sitting there wallowing in my misery. Would she go back to Alice's? More than likely. I threw myself down all three flights of stairs two at a time, nearly breaking my neck twice.

I raced through the streets, only dimly aware from the glances of the people I passed that I hadn't fully buttoned up my shirt. I was completely unkempt, running like a madman through St. Germain towards Alice's. I didn't care. Reaching the door of her building, I braced myself on the frame, gasping for air as I pressed the buzzer for her apartment. There was no answer. I tried again and waited. Nothing. It was a Saturday, so Alice wasn't working, but that didn't necessarily mean she'd be home. I turned away from the door, slumping against the frame momentarily in defeat, staring blankly up Rue de Seine. If she wasn't here, where would she go?

"Ah! You are looking for one of the Mademoiselles, yes?"

I turned to look over my shoulder, still heaving with every breath, a bead of sweat sliding down my forehead and dripping off to the ground. The front door was open and a woman stood there, looking at me expectantly. She was an older woman, too old for the tight, sexy black dress she was wearing on a Saturday afternoon. She had an empty basket over her arm, like she was going to the market…wearing that dress…with hair that color. She was smiling saucily at me, cocking one eyebrow.

"Pardonnez-moi ?" I asked reflexively.

"Is it Mademoiselle Alice? Non, Mademoiselle Bella, I think, oui?"

"You know Bella?"

"Oui, oui. She lives next door to me with petite Alice. They are charming, non? I am Madame Beauvais. "

"Enchanté," I replied automatically. "Have you seen her?"

"Mademoiselle Bella? Non, not since this morning. You are her young man?"

I smiled in spite of myself and nodded. "Yes, I am. If you see her, can you tell her I came by? It's Edward."

"Edward," she said it slowly, trying it out. Then she nodded, apparently satisfied that my name suited. "I will tell her. Would you like to wait inside for her?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I need to keep looking for her."

"Ah, d'accord. Good luck, my handsome boy!"

Then she patted my cheek lightly with her gloved hand and brushed past me too close, in a way that I almost would have called flirtatious, before she sauntered off down Rue de Seine.

I leaned against the door for another long moment, exhausted and defeated. I had no idea where to look next. If worst came to worst, I could always just wait here in front of her building. She had to come back eventually. But I desperately wanted to be doing something, not just sitting and waiting. I cast my mind back through our short acquaintance, looking for any clue as to where she'd go if she wasn't home and wasn't with me. And then I knew.

I shot up off the door frame, racing down Rue de Seine towards the river. She would be there, I was sure of it. The afternoon was glorious, the first really warm sunny day of spring, and the streets were crowded with people the closer I got to the river. It was worse on the Pont Neuf and it seemed for a time that the closer I got, the slower I moved. I stumbled down the stone steps and sprinted past ambling pedestrians and happy lovers until I was racing through the tiny green triangle of Square du Vert-Galant.

There she was, right at the tip, like I knew she would be, leaning on the railing, looking down at the water. The soft spring breeze blew off the water and gently ruffled her tangled hair, swirling it around her slim shoulders.

When I was within arms' reach of her, I spoke. "Bella."

She spun to face me, her whole face collapsing in sadness, tears beginning again as we locked eyes.

"Edward, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it…any of it."

"It's alright, Bella," I held up my hand to stop her.

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it wasn't. What I said to you…what I accused you of, that was awful. I started it. And then I said the most awful things to you. It was just that seeing Rose today, what happened to her…and then I was worried that I was making all the same mistakes…" She was starting to cry too hard to speak.

I closed the distance between us, grasping her hands between mine. "Bella, don't. I should have stopped it. You were in no shape to make that kind of choice today, I knew that." I dropped my head and chuckled a little. "It's just that when you touched me like that I had a hard time remembering what I should be doing."

She closed her eyes, dropping her head back and moaning. Apparently I was making it worse.

"I'm sorry," I amended quickly, "I don't want to make you feel bad. I do want you, rather desperately, but I know you're not willing to do that…"

"That's just it," she interrupted softly, squeezing my fingers. "I am willing. Or at least I want to be. I…I want you, too." She ducked her head and blushed. "But, Edward, how can I? How can we? You make me so happy. I just want to be with you. But how can we get involved so deeply when I'm leaving? I don't belong here. I have a life…"

"It doesn't matter," I said, the resolution forming in my mind as I spoke. But I knew it was right. I knew what was most important. "Look, I want to be with you, too. More than anything. If you're going home, then I'll come, too."

She blinked once, then just stared for a long moment. "What?"

"I'll come with you. Back to America. I can paint anywhere, and what's important is that we're together. Bella, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

She said nothing, she just looked at me, her eyes wide, disbelieving. The same insecurity reared its head again, that I was just a fling for her, a pleasant distraction for her in Paris before she returned home to …Jacob. His name burned like fire in my brain.

"You would do that for me?" she finally whispered.

"I would do anything for you."

"Edward…" her eyes softened and her head tipped to the side. Then without warning she launched herself at me, her arms locking around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder. I caught her up against me, squeezing hard.

"So it's alright then?" I murmured against her hair.

"Oh, God, so much better than alright."

I chuckled softly, relief flooding my system, before I released her a bit, letting her settle back down on her feet. I reached up and held her face between my hands before I leaned in and kissed her softly. Bella kissed back readily, grasping my face in her hands, too.

"You would really come home with me?"

"I'd follow you anywhere, Bella."

She gave a nervous, watery chuckle through her tears. "You might rethink that if you saw Forks."

I shrugged and smiled, wrapping my arms around her waist. "Let's worry about the details later, shall we? Today has been hard enough for you. Just be with me for a little while, alright?"

She nodded wearily and smiled. A couple on a bench behind us chose that moment to get up and relinquish their seats, so I pulled her over and we sat down. I dropped my arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on my chest, our free hands joined loosely. It was late afternoon, nearly sunset, the pink and orange streaking across the sky reflected back from the Seine, shimmering and fracturing. We didn't say much, we just sat and watched the colors shift and change as the sky grew dark over our heads.

I was trying to follow my own advice and think about nothing but the feel of Bella curled against me, but my thoughts wouldn't behave. Honestly, I didn't want to leave Paris. I loved this city. It was home to me and had been for five years. But when I tried to imagine living here while Bella was halfway around the world, my heart stopped and Paris lost all of its charms. There would be nothing in Paris to love if Bella wasn't in it with me, I realized that now.

The future spread out before me as one long blank page. I never had a plan for the future before, but this was different, and a little frightening. But losing Bella was more terrifying, so I knew I'd do whatever it took to keep her with me.

The afternoon had been warm and soft, but as the light faded, the breeze off the Seine grew cool and I felt Bella shiver against me.

"Let's get you inside, love. You haven't eaten all day," I murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"I need to tell Alice about Rose," she said, her voice tired and pained.

"Esme's having people over tonight. I'm sure Alice will be there. Come home with me and we'll find her there."

Bella sighed and nodded. I stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping my arm around her waist. She rested her head on my shoulder and we made our way slowly out of the park. I realized with a slight smile that we'd become one of those couples, the ones I always scowled at cynically when they lingered on the park benches, so clearly lost in each other. But now I understood. I'd happily spend the rest of my life back on that bench, lost in Bella.

A/N: What will they do now? Thanks for reading, and thanks for all your lovely reviews! Happy New Year :)