Chapter 13 – The Natural Order

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It had been five days, and Edward still had not moved.

His reasoning was thus: if he was able to stay away from Bella for a mere thirty days, he would be able to return home once more. Ultimately, this would be simple. He would just have to separate himself from her by moving as far away from her location as his jurisdiction would allow.

Simple. In theory, anyhow.

But in reality . . . things were not as easy as his head made them sound.

It proved almost impossible to remain distant from her when all he could think about was her; climbing ivy hair and soft, smooth skin that smelt like nothing he'd ever encountered before – on earth or his own planet; the darkened hue of her eyes and the colour of her lips as they changed from blue to pink to red – the first time he saw her, and the last.

Every single moment played on a loop in his mind until he almost couldn't stand it.

But he would, because he must.

He knew that it was irrational to dismiss Jasper's words, and it wasn't so much that he had, but rather, that he was attempting to deny them. His friend's advice had been heard – deep down – but he simply wasn't ready to accept the inevitable yet.

Even if she was his, he'd been in her presence for less than twenty four hours. Surely that counted in his favour . . .

If he could just hold on for less than thirty more days.

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A week passed for me like a drop of rain rolling down my bedroom window.

The first few days were slow, seeming to find delight in dragging out my discomfort. It wasn't that I was suddenly engulfed in attention the next day at school, or that this new found interaction with Charlie grew more stilted the more it, well, grew.

Nothing is ever really so dramatic.

No, the dragging of time came from the sudden newness of the places and people I found herself in and dealing with. It was so subtle, like the mere stroke of a painter's hand, but like such a tiny movement could create a masterpiece, such small, seemingly insignificant alterations in my life were still the biggest challenges I'd faced in two years. And if I were really being honest with myself, even more so.

I felt like I was suddenly in focus, attuned to everything and everyone around me again. There was no more invisibility cloak to find shelter under, no more blank stare to send everyone else away.

There was just simply no hiding anymore.

I felt and saw it all. But just because it may have been necessary . . .

. . . it didn't mean I had to like it.

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"Found a new hiding place, brother?"

From high upon a mountain nestled in the cloud banks, Edward did not so much as turn his head to greet his feathered friend.

But Jasper was not deterred. Settling more comfortably on the flat of a rock, he said, "You keep running away from me, and you'll give me a complex. That does things to a non-human, you know."

Edward flicked his gaze from the smoky air in front of him only momentarily, but said nothing.

"Ah," Jasper said, smiling. "You see me, but your gaze is elsewhere. And for once, I do not believe it is reflecting inwardly, no . . . " he trailed off, pretending to tap his chin in thought. "I do believe you have left something behind, my friend."

Edward twitched, but still did not respond.

"But it is not lost," Jasper hedged, shifting a bit closer. "Should you happen to turn back and travel north, you might find that which you seek."

Finally growing tired of Jasper's taunts, Edward turned to him. "Why must you provoke me so!" he snapped, scowling darkly at his friend. "When you know my position, why must you carry on in such a way!"

Jasper's eyes widened at the sheer desperation in Edward's. He looked even more agitated than he had seven days prior. "It is because you are in this position that I must," Jasper soothed, but his tone was at once insistent. "You are my friend, and I do not wish to see you suffer."

Edward turned away from him then, still scowling. His gaze glided back to white haze that settled around the two beings like wisps of smoke, or whispers of silk. "I am not," Edward said simply, hoping the quiver was only in his heart, and not in his voice.

Jasper regarded his friends profile with a frown, distress plain on his face. "I know what you are trying to do," he said, letting out a long sigh. "And it will not work."

Gritting his teeth, Edward managed to spit out, "I have been in an animal's company longer than hers." Closing his eyes, he murmured, almost to himself, "Things can be halted if they are not continued."

He felt the pressure of Jasper's touch on his shoulder, but he shook it off. It was a consolatory gesture, and Edward hadn't lost yet.

There was silence for a minute, not even the sound of birds disrupted their quiet.

"I can say nothing you do not already know," Jasper continued, his voice a little glum. "And if I could, you would likely be inclined not to listen anyway." Sighing, he rose from his perch, but made no move to take flight. Instead, he stood, staring down at his friend. He wondered if he knew how much his outward appearance was affected by his inner turmoil – certainly, Jasper was sure he'd never get used to it.

But he had worsened. There was a perpetual tilt to his head and shoulders, like the weight of so many planets rested on his shoulders – not just his own. His vibrant wings drooped, feathers sprawling lankly over the jagged rocks. He noticed the puddle of orange that swirled in the wind and closed his eyes, a feeling of ultimate dread washing over him.

"You have been away from her for too long," Jasper said, his voice dropping. "If you do not return soon . . . " he trailed off, unable to say the words.

But Edward was unmoved. He stared, his gaze listless and empty in the wind. His eyes weren't dark or glowing, but a pale grey that reminded Jasper of death.

Abruptly frustrated, he stepped in front of Edward before crouching down. "The connection has already been made," he said angrily. "If you continue on in this manner, you will die. Do you comprehend me? There will be no you left to return home." Swiping a pile of feathers from the ground, he thrust them in front of his friends face. "What more proof do you need?"

Edward's gaze flickered to him, but distantly. "Just thirty days," he mumbled, then frowned. "No, less than that now."

Jasper shook his head, suddenly furious. He wasn't listening. Why did he never listen?

"They will not let you back," he said in exasperation, his hands going to Edward's shoulders and shaking lightly. "You know this. They will know. And they will forbid your return unless you return with her."

Edward tilted his head, his forehead creasing. "Twenty three days," he said slowly, a sheen across his gaze, warping reality. "That's all . . . "

Barely restraining a frustrated growl, Jasper yanked his friend to his feet. "No more," he said sharply. "I shall not watch your stupidity kill you. We are going. Now."

Edward came back enough from his stupor to say, "What?"

Looking back at him, Jasper crossed his arms in a way he'd observed humans do in situations of high intensity. "We are travelling north."

Edward shook his head. "No."

Jasper's frown deepened. He couldn't very well force Edward to go. It had to be his decision, but how?

His eyes widened in realisation. Or who, he thought.

"Have you thought about the effect this is having on Bella?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I know that it is pointless to point this out considering you already know it, but the connection is mutual."

Edward's gaze became a little clearer as he frowned. "She has not called my name," he said, a little sadly despite himself.

Jasper smiled a little, clasping a hand to his friends shoulder once more. "Given all the time I have spent observing the species, I can safely say that this is not exclusive to your Bella. Humans are not often forthright with their feelings." His face twisted unhappily. "Especially not the females."

Edward blinked at him, perplexed.

Jasper sighed, trying to find the right words to explain. It had been confusing for him at first, but he needed Edward to understand now, otherwise he might perish here.

"She might want you," he said, simultaneously softly and desperately. "But she might also be afraid . . . and sometimes fear can override all of our desires and wants because it is simply easier to let it do that." He watched Edward's face carefully as he explained, hoping he understood that he was no longer referring to only Bella. "You can want something so much – like friendship or peace or home – until you become blind to all the things that make it up."

Edward's gaze flickered to him warily, and Jasper could sense him unravelling.

Proceeding gently, he said, "You have clung to the idea of returning home for so many years with more affection and reverence that I ever accounted upon you while you were there." At his words, Edward's eyes dropped to the ground. But he continued, persistent but careful, "I think you have romanticised our planet into something it's not, and never really was for you, because I think it gave you something to battle your loneliness – something to hope for."

"And now you believe it is being so selfishly torn away, yes?" Edward nodded in affirmation, but did not turn his gaze back to his friend.

Taking a deep breath, Jasper prepared himself for what he was going to say next.

"But you have no-one there," he said bluntly, causing Edward to flinch. Jasper ploughed on, despite the guilt he felt. "But now you have someone here. Edward," he implored, prompting his friends eyes to finally look back up at him. "You don't want a place. You want people. And your home is only made upon the people you are with."

Jasper's eyes pleaded with him as he said for the second time in seven days, so earnestly his voice carried the beats of his heart, "Your home is here."

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Just like the rain drop rushes down to meet the sill once it passes halfway, the week sped up as it neared its end.

I fell into a sort of understanding of the way things might be now. At school, I finally managed to work up the nerve to apologise to Angela. I had toyed with doing it via text (having charged my phone and found her number still programmed into it). I'm sorry had hovered obnoxiously on the glowing screen for what seemed like hours before I'd ultimately gotten rid of it. It felt too cowardly and insincere. And not at all what she deserved.

So I had apologised, though it had taken me a few days after our talk to do so. Then she had hugged me again, and I had let her.

The past week with Charlie had been . . . okay. It wasn't as if we could jump from zero to one hundred in a matter of days . . . which is what I think we'd been trying to the day after I got back home. But things were better than they were before. I didn't retreat to my room all the time, and Charlie seemed to work less – because he seemed to be around so much more.

It was . . . nice. A kind of comforting familiarity that made me feel relieved to come home after school, instead of empty.

Fulfillment felt so different . . . but still, I couldn't help but feel as though something was missing.

It wasn't a precise thing, in particular; just this ache I'd get in my stomach sometimes that might travel up to my heart. It never really went away, but it spiked throughout the day – randomly, too.

With such sudden knowledge of so much feeling of the people all around me, I wished I could just shut it off, fill whatever was missing so I could stop myself from feeling so much.

At night, I would lay in the dark with the lone feather clutched in my palm, and it would help a little. Of course I hadn't forgotten about Edward. The memory of him would come to me each time I was alone, and sometimes my mouth would even form the letters of his name, but then I'd become aware of what I was doing and get hot and red even though no one could see me.

I would turn away, but take his feather with me; trying to forget about him and pulling him closer all at once.

The more I thought, the more the guilt and gratitude swelled within me until it felt like they might burst out of my chest in competing fits of emotion. He had brought me in from the dark and nestled me into the warm, and then he had returned me home, and he hadn't even asked for so much as a thank you.

He had helped me, and I had only run away from him.

Closing my eyes now in the dark, I stroke the feather between my fingertips. I haven't been able to look at it in the light yet. For now, I let myself think that feeling it is enough, because on some level, it is.

Nightmares are kept on the peripheral, and something cold and hollow inside of me glows warm and amber – if only for a moment.

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A/N: *rubs hands together in anticipation* You guys know what's coming next chapter, right? ... Edward/Bella actual INTERACTION! Yay! I've wanted to write more for so long now (I know it's only been three chapters since they last talked, but still), but it just didn't feel like the right time. Other things needed to be addressed, you know? But now... (it's go time)

Also, can I just say how much I adore Jasper (and Angela, incidentally). They're super-duper lovely in a I-wish-they-were-my-actual-friends kind of way.

See you soon!