DISCLAIMER: First and foremost, I would like to EMPHASIZE that I DO NOT own Twilight - Stephenie Meyer does. Secondly, this fan fiction was written purely for the purpose of entertainment and will not be used for monetary profit. Lastly, I am all for constructive criticism. However, if you're just here to comment on how much you HATE Twilight or that I'm an awful person for replacing Bella, please don't bother.

A/N: I would like to send a great big THANKS to my Beta (Angel of the Night Watchers) for taking this on.

What was it that neither Edward nor Lillie could have expected? Furthermore, what does this mean for them? Read and find out!

For those of you chomping at the bit for Edward to stop acting the fool, this should help. ;P

Hope you enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!

Chapter 14:

It burned, like my body had suddenly become a live wire for thousands of volts. The faint tingle and zing of earlier contact couldn't begin to compare to the boiling, explosive sensations spreading like wildfire from the ice-cold pressure of his mouth on me. Even the chill of his hand cradled possessively beneath my chin was lost amidst the fiery inferno. All semblance of control, of prudence melted away to nothing. I was consumed.

My left hand, trapped firmly between our bodies, slid from the cotton of his shirt to the smooth expanse of his bare chest, nails grazing passionately against his marble skin as my palm ran upward toward his neck. My right hand, until then hanging limply from his wrist, suddenly moved to his hair, my fingers curling into fists, locking it into place. My feet arched, stretching me onto tip-toes so that I pressed more firmly against him, my body conforming to the unyielding lines of his. And my lips parted in a wild gasp as I breathed in the intoxicating scent of him.

Edward's response was immediate, but it took me a moment to realize what had happened. The muscles of his body froze, becoming so like the stone he oft resembled. Even the influx of his breathing had ceased. Naturally, I followed suit. I locked every joint, every muscle I could into place, not even daring to open my eyes. What had I done?

After a long second of standing there, both of us trying to be as still as the statue of Adonis, I felt him shift. Gentle as a caress but with irresistible force, the hand on my chin pushed me back. The instant our lips broke apart, my eyes came open and I scanned his face.

Guarded. That was the best way to describe his expression, with his jaw clenched shut in acute restraint and his brow furrowed in effort. His eyes, on the other hand, were wild with excitement and hunger.

We stayed there, still wrapped in a frozen embrace, eyes reading each other.

I opened my mouth to apologize but couldn't seem to find the words, not to mention his hand holding my chin in place greatly reduced my range of motion.

His eyes immediately shifted to focus on the movement and he stared in a slightly fixated way, his pupils dilating minutely.

The look reminded me of nothing more than a hunter. I'd seen this look a few times before. Been on the resultant end of it more than a few …. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach and I'm sure my face lost whatever flush it had earned from the kiss. I stopped breathing and waited. Would this be it? I'd pushed us off the precipice with my reaction – catapulted, more like. What happened now was in his hands.

Each thundering beat of my pulse echoed ominously into the emptiness between us as I waited for him to move; knowing, internally, that each pump reminded him of what was to be gained by giving in.

After what seemed an eternity, Edward's eyes slid shut and he let out a shaky breath. Sympathetically, I did likewise, my limbs turned seemingly to jelly. His instincts had lost.

When his eyes had opened again, they were more placid – though by no means tame. The golden orbs fixed on mine as he carefully eased his grip on my face.

Freed from a death sentence, I was mortified by my own careless actions. I must be suicidal! What other explanation could there be for the way I'd reacted? Granted, I'd never been kissed before … but that was no excuse.

"That wasn't smart …." I fought a blush, instead plainly stating the obvious. I wanted to apologize but was still working on how to say it.

He scoffed softly, "It was … different."

I raised an eyebrow, "Nonetheless, I made that hard for you."

"That's an understatement." He didn't smile. He didn't frown. His expression stayed neutral, if a little on the tense side.

"I'm sorry," My shoulders sagged dejectedly.

His arms tightened around me and a flicker of that burning passionate light danced across his eyes before he forced them shut again.

Realizing how difficult it must be for him to be so near to me after that … episode, I decided to be proactive. "I can move, if you need …." I softly tried to disentangle myself from his grasp, taking special care to keep my actions unhurried.

Edward's grip tightened more – though still not uncomfortably, "No. It's tolerable. Please wait." His perfect articulation had returned, having only slipped since the kiss.

I froze again, allowing him time to compose himself.

Half a minute later, his grip softened and so did the intensity within his eyes. A smugly satisfied smirk overtook his face as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

"Better?" My voice was still pitched a little oddly, higher but with a vaguely husky quality.

"You could say that." His hand moved from my chin, sliding lazily along my jaw before casually twining itself into the curls just below my left ear. "I'm stronger than I thought – it's nice to know."

"Stronger?" What did this have to do with his strength?

His smile ticked up a notch and he bent his forehead down to touch mine, "My control."

Ah. That kind of strength. My breath puffed out in a slightly resentful huff and I adopted a wry look, "Well, that makes one of us."

He chuckled softly and pulled back to look me in the face, "Not that I'm complaining …." He began to slowly draw the hand resting against the small of my back upward, "But, of the two of us, I think I'd much rather have your control be the weaker."

"Yes … well …." I couldn't help the shiver that accompanied the cool pressure of his hand as he drew it up my spine, "I suppose that's reasonable."

He laughed now and moved both hands so that they were cradling my face, "Most definitely."

"If I asked you something, would you tell me the truth?"

We'd worked our way to the small creek just south of the meadow. The water was crystal clear and refreshingly cool as I filled my cupped hands for a sip.

Edward was leaning casually against one of the moss-covered boulders across from me, his skin no longer sparkling with prismatic brilliance. He raised an eyebrow at me as I lifted my hands to my face, tilting them to allow the water to trickle into my mouth.

"What do you want to know?"

That wasn't an answer, and I gave him a slightly cross look before I continued, "Why did you come to see me in the hospital?"

"I was concerned."

"About my health?"

"Partially." He shifted himself in a way that made me wonder whether he was uncomfortable.

"And the rest?" I stood, shaking the water from my hands as I examined him.

He sighed, "You have to understand, I've never done something like that before. At the time, all I could think about was that I wasn't ready to lose you. I didn't think about the consequences. I just acted."

He paused and looked at my face.

I nodded my understanding, "But why come see me afterward?"

"It was my mistake. It was my job to put it right." He dropped his gaze to his feet.

His mistake. I tried not to feel the hollow emptiness in my stomach. I'd asked for the truth. He was simply giving me what I'd asked for.

"I see."

I couldn't blame him for coming to check on me. His circumstances were different than mine. Whenever someone had gotten too close to my secrets, I'd simply fled. It wasn't that easy for him. His spur-of-the-moment decision had jeopardized not only his cover but that of his entire family.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, almost lost to the gurgle of the nearby water.

I shook my head, "No need. I understand."

"Can I ask you something, now?"

I took a deep breath and looked up, nodding my head.

"During the accident," he paused, scanning my face before continuing. "What happened?"

The sensation of being doused in ice-cold water rushed over me as I looked at him. I wasn't sure I was ready to tell him this. It wasn't that I thought he'd turn on me or denounce me for a witch. The fact was, I had never discussed it openly with anyone. Even Marie and I had never delved into what was wrong with me. In truth, the whole situation terrified me – it always had.

My hands were the first to go, shaking as though I were standing outside in a snowstorm. Then, gradually, my arms and legs. I tried to stop it, to tell myself that it wasn't such a big deal. Considering all the other things he could have asked, this was mild – and it wasn't like he didn't already know I could do it.

While I stood there, shivering like a spooked colt, Edward watched me; his golden eyes taking in the faint tremors and tightening at the corners.

"I don't really know what it was," my words were monotone and the syllables shook with my nervousness. "It just … happens sometimes."

He watched me for a moment before speaking, "When did it start?"

I blinked quickly, trying to force the tickling sensation of tears away. Crying was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

"When I was very young." Again with the monotone. My words sounded like a dry lecture, even to me.

"Can you control it?"

"No." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Lillie, open your eyes." Edward's voice was much closer than before.

I hadn't heard him move but, lo and behold, when I slid my eyes open, he was standing in front of me.

"Thank you." His hand came up to gently brush my face.

Confusion washed over me as I looked into his sincere eyes. What was he thanking me for? I'd just revealed to him that I had some sort of … unnatural ability – that I'd had it all my life. How, under any circumstances, could that be a good thing?

"For what?" My voice hitched at the end, breaking the uniformity of my tone.

He smiled in a commiserative sort of way and brought his other hand up to cup my jaw, "For telling me."

Again, this didn't make sense.

"I don't understand."

He pulled back from me, his eyes roaming over my face before he put on a sardonic smirk, "Lillie, did you forget that I can read minds?"

"No." Well, in all honesty, I had. But that wasn't really relevant. I would have remembered soon enough.

"You do understand that I don't hold this against you, right?"

I blinked, "Why not?"

"You really are remarkable," he shook his head slightly from side to side as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I'm a vampire, Lillie – a telepathic vampire. I could be wrong, but I believe that I outrank you when it comes to 'weird'."

I opened my mouth to retort but I never got that far. This wasn't an argument that I should want to win. Winning meant revealing everything. And where would that get me? Nowhere. So, what was the point?

I smiled in a half-hearted sort of way.

He eyed me speculatively for a moment, "You don't believe me, do you?"

I shrugged, "I want to. It's just that I'm not used to being the normal one in any situation."

He smirked, "Tell me about it." Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

I couldn't help laughing at the impish look on his face – not to mention the feeling of his marble lips softly brushing the sensitive skin of my nose tickled.

Playfully, I shoved his chest as he moved to wrap his iron arms around me. The next thing I knew, my head and feet had traded places. It took a moment for the suddenly epic spinning of the world to slow enough for me to register that Edward's strong arms were wrapped securely around my knees and back.

There was no missing his smug smirk, though. Barely restrained laughter danced in his tawny eyes as he looked down at my shocked expression. "Is there a problem, Miss Howard?" His tone was perfectly cordial, without a hint of the effort he was exerting to hold me so steadily in my current position.

"Yes, actually." I strained my neck muscles as I lifted my head to look around.

"Do tell."

When I realized that the creek was just beyond my reach, I had to grudgingly give up on the option of dousing him in cold water. So, in the interest of being pithy, I returned my eyes to him and adopted a serious expression, "I seem to have been swept off my feet."

"Oh? Why would that be a problem?"

"Well," I feigned looking around for eavesdroppers and then purposefully lowered my volume to a stage whisper. "We seem to be missing a band!"

Edward's laughter echoed off the surrounding trees and his body shook with mirth as he swung me back to a standing position.

"That is something we shall have to remedy, then."

The sun dangled precariously close to the tree tops as we re-entered the glen, and I sighed as I realized that our time there had come to an end. As it was, we wouldn't make it back to the car before darkness fell. I didn't much relish the idea of hiking through the forest at night but at least I would be with Edward.

"We should go," his voice was low and whimsical.

"I know." My tone was less than enthusiastic. It wasn't that I was loath to go home, quite the opposite. I was simply remiss about surrendering my time with him.

Wordlessly, Edward wrapped his arms around me from behind and held me as I watched the sun slowly dip toward the uppermost branches of the western trees. When, at last, the reddish-orange orb was broken by the tree line, I took one last look around the meadow – our meadow.

"I'm ready," I gently squeezed his hands and mentally prepared myself for the arduous walk back.

"Lillie."

The strange hesitance to his voice made me turn. He hadn't moved since I'd stepped away from his embrace, breaking the stone circle of his grasp.

"Do you trust me?"

The question confused me at first. Even so, my answer was ready enough, "Yes."

"Then will you let me show you something?" He stepped forward and took my right hand in his, his eyes oddly intense.

"What is it?" What could make him look so … nervous?

"Let me show you how I travel."

It took a few moments for my mind to process his request. How he traveled? What was that supposed to mean? I eyed him for a moment, confusion warring with curiosity in my head.

"Are you trying to tell me that you fly?"

He chuckled and a wry look replaced the thinly veiled nervousness on his face, "Not exactly."

"Then how …?"

"Let me show you." Now there was excitement in his eyes.

"Okay …." Something deep inside cautioned that I would regret this concession.

I barely got to register the elated smile break over his face before Edward grabbed my wrist and guided me around to his back. Before I could protest, he had slung my arms around his neck and hooked his arms through the crook of my knees.

Hoisted on his back like an awkward pack, I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach.

"Edward … wha …?"

"Just hold on tight!"

The instant I felt his muscles coil my own locked into place, my fingers digging painfully into the triceps of the opposite arm. Then we were off.

The speed of light is equal to three times ten to the eighth power meters per second. According to special relativity theory, an object with positive mass at rest can neither reach nor surpass the speed of light. Yeah … about that ….

The forest blurred into one long line of brownish-green light as I clung on to Edward's back for dear life. Only the constant surge and ebb of the airflow over my skin told me we'd bypassed another of the leafy obstacles. My eyes were frozen wide in shock, burning relentlessly under the airy assault. What breaths I could manage came in short, sharp gasps of growing panic. My only thought was of what would happen to me if Edward miscalculated a step and slammed us into a tree ….

"Deep breaths, love. Come on. Deep breaths."

The hand pressed across my forehead was warmer than I thought it should be. The voice was familiar, though. And, if I squinted just right, the face shape was right – just kind of … fuzzy.

It took a minute before I realized that the swooshing pressure of fast-moving air was absent. Also, there was pressure against my back and butt. Blinking a few times, I concentrated on the sound of his voice and tried to comply with his request.

Breathe. Right. I could do that.

I sucked in a surprisingly fast lung-full of air which resulted in a minor coughing fit. After it had passed, I could see again – though now my eyes were watering. I was seated on the ground, my knees pulled closely to my chest, and Edward was kneeling before me. Behind him, though still slightly out of focus, I could make out the forest.

"Better?" His hand slid down the side of my face, coming to rest against my neck.

"You … you …." There was something very important that I needed to tell him. I just couldn't quite wrap my head around what it had been.

"I guess that wasn't such a good idea." His expression was chagrined.

"You …. You broke Physics!" Right. That was it.

Confusion replaced the chagrin on his face and he blinked once, "What?"

"You broke Physics!" My tone was approaching hysterical.

"No I didn't." Now worry replaced the confusion on his face.

"Yes you did!" I raised my hand and motioned over his shoulder toward the tree line, "Back there – with the running. You broke it! You're not supposed to do that!"

"Lillie, I wasn't going that fast."

"But the trees … they all blurred together …." The panic was slowly beginning to subside under the gentle persuasion of his voice.

He smirked, "That's because your eyes aren't used to focusing that fast."

"I … oh." All right, so I'd exaggerated the facts a little in my shock. It's not like that wasn't a natural response.

His smirk grew vaguely wicked, "At least you'll know to close your eyes next time."

Next time?

The look I gave him must have been fairly comical because he laughed softly before getting to his feet and offering me a hand up.

I took it without comment and rose shakily to my feet. It took only a single glance around to recognize the roadside parking area. The solid object I'd been leaning heavily against was the rear tire of my Porsche.

"I knew you were fast, Edward. But … Mon Dieu! I didn't realize you were that fast!" I was shaking my head in disbelief as I measured the angle of the light seeping through the surrounding foliage. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes since we'd been standing in the clearing. To think: five miles in under five minutes.

A soft chuckle accompanied the self-satisfied grin on his face, "And just think: I had to go slower because I was carrying you."

My mouth worked silently as I took in his pronouncement and tried to comprehend the possibility that he could go yet faster.

"No wonder you drive so fast …," that wasn't the most relevant thought in my head but at least it was something to say.

Another chuckle, "Speaking of driving." His expression faded to neutrality, "I think you had better let me drive us back."

"What? Why?" Like I needed another high-speed shock to my system.

"You're still dizzy," His eyes moved down to indicate my hand still held in his. This wouldn't have been indicative of anything, had I not been leaning my weight heavily on that support.

Purposefully, I attempted to shift my weight more fully onto my own feet. Unfortunately, my knees weren't quite stable enough to allow for the strain. Only Edward's lightening fast reaction kept me from ending up as a limp pile on the ground at his feet.

"Need I say more?" Sarcasm dripped from his words as he looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You know," I reluctantly reached into my pocket for the slick, silver object. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you planned this just so you could drive my car …."

He chuckled as he righted me and claimed the key, "Would you, now?"

For once, he kept the speed to a reasonable pace. Either he was being considerate of my still-recovering senses or he was prolonging our time together. It didn't much matter to me. I was simply grateful for his presence.

We rode with the windows down, our hands entwined on the edge of my seat, and the radio tuned to an oldies station. One of my favorite pastimes was singing along with the radio. I hadn't done it much since I'd moved to Forks – hadn't much been in the mood. But sitting there holding hands with Edward, I felt happier than I had in a long, long time.

So I sang. Right along with Buddy Holly as he whimsically assured himself that love would surely come his way. I let the happiness and hope I felt for the fresh new love between Edward and I seep into the words. And he sang along, too; every single word.

"You have a beautiful voice," he squeezed my hand at the end of the song. "I can't believe I've never heard you sing before."

I shrugged and cast him a genuine smile, "You're pretty good, yourself."

He smirked playfully, "Lots of practice."

I laughed heartily and turned my face into the wind, exulting in the feeling of my hair being swept back from my face.

"Though I wouldn't have pegged you for a fifties girl."

"Are you kidding?" I gave him a scandalized look, "Sinatra, Cole, Lewis – and let's not forget Elvis."

He laughed, "I'm not arguing with you. Music in the fifties was good. Much better than in the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" He shuddered. "The eighties were bearable."

"Come now! The sixties weren't that bad – The Beatles, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Cat Stevens. And what about Eric Clapton or The Eagles? They made music in the seventies."

He looked taken aback for a moment before he gave me a very serious look, "One word. ABBA."

My mouth worked silently for a moment as I tried to come up with a rebuttal, "They weren't that bad."

He laughed, shaking his head from side to side, "We'll just have to disagree on that."

It was seven-fifteen when we pulled into my driveway. I scanned the darkened windows as Edward maneuvered us into the garage.

"I guess Julia is still at dinner with Charlie," I posited quietly.

"Charlie?" He turned off the engine and held the key out to me.

"Chief Swan," I clarified.

His eyebrows reached for the ceiling as I took the proffered item, "Your aunt is dating the Chief of Police?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, but I'm not supposed to know yet."

"Why not?"

"It's still fairly informal. She only told me she was going to dinner with a 'friend'." I made little quotation marks with my fingers.

"Then how do you know she's out with Chief Swan?"

I gave him an exasperated look, "They're not very good at hiding it, for starters. His number is the most common one on the caller id." I shook my head in bemusement, "Besides, I overheard him ask her out the other day."

He blinked, "You overheard them?"

I shrugged, unapologetic. "He's one of those people who talks loudly over the phone."

He chuckled softly and squeezed my hand, "Speaking of dinner …."

"Right. Food." I sighed, "I should get some of that." Considering that I hadn't eaten all day I was a little surprised that my stomach wasn't grumbling in protest. Even so, I wasn't really concerned about it. What did concern me was Edward. After everything that had happened today, I found the idea of returning to the mundane, everyday aspects of life unappealing.

"What are you thinking about?" His hand came up and he stroked the small crease of concentration between my eyebrows with his thumb.

"Time."

"What about it?" His hand came to rest on the side of my face.

"That I haven't had enough today," I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his palm. That feeling – having too little time – was foreign. For most of my life, the passage of time had been like an all-encompassing wave – a tsunami, sweeping me out to drown in the great unknown. But not anymore.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

I had seasoned the hardships, the fear, and the loneliness of the last century. Now it was time for a little peace.

"I know the feeling." Edward's soft words broke through my reverie and I opened my eyes to look at him.

"Would you like to come in, then?"

His smile was breathtaking, "I'd love to."

Stepping through the garage door into the bright florescent lighting of Julia's homey kitchen felt a little like waking from a dream. When Edward and I had driven away from the house this morning, I had left not knowing whether I would ever see it again. At the time, I had pushed my fear and sadness aside; choosing, instead, to focus on being with Edward. But standing there, looking at a place I'd resigned to never see again, I couldn't help but feel the relief of being home – of being safe.

The feeling of Edward's fingers brushing the small of my back as he passed brought me out of my inner contemplation. I gave myself a mental shake as he took a seat at the table and headed for the fridge.

"So, what's for dinner?" Edward's melodic voice echoed around the room as I examined the tiny Tupperware containers.

"I'm thinking … chicken fettuccine." Straightening up, I scanned the nearby cupboards, "Plates … plates …."

Before I had time to switch gears, mentally, Edward was standing there. Since the last place I'd seen him had been seated at the table, I jumped involuntarily at his sudden appearance. It took a few heartbeats before I realized that he was holding a plain white plate in his hand.

"Oh … uh, thanks." I took the proffered item, blinking in confusion.

"You're quite welcome," He smiled reassuringly and leaned casually against the granite counter-top.

Brushing the incident aside, I worked my way over to the microwave. Fishing a fork out of a nearby drawer, I prepped my plate and set it to reheating. I returned the remaining leftovers to the fridge and brought out the pitcher of iced tea.

"Hey, Edward, could you …." When I stood up and turned to look at him, Edward had a large glass in his hand.

That's when I knew something was off.

I eased the refrigerator door shut and placed the pitcher I was holding on the counter. In the last forty-seven years, I had lived in more than thirty households. If there was one thing I had learned in all that time, it was that no two households kept their cups in the same place. Some people kept them next to the sink, some next to the fridge, others by the pantry, and still more by the table. Julia liked to keep hers in the second cabinet to the right of the stove – and not for any particular reason that I'd discerned. I had brushed off the plate as luck – people were often a little more consistent in their placement. The cup was a different matter.

I reached over and plucked the glass from his outstretched hand, "Thank you."

He nodded.

I pursed my lips slightly as I looked between the glass, Edward, and the cupboard, "How did you know where to find this?"

He examined my face, seeming to understand that something wasn't quite right. After a few seconds, he spoke, "I was curious about you."

My stomach clenched, "You broke into my house?"

"Yes."

"When?" The alarm bells inside my head began to ring.

"I'm here almost every night."

I froze into complete stillness; locking every muscle, joint, and tendon into place. The ruckus inside my head was deafening, drowning out even my own thoughts as I stood staring at Edward. Neither of us moved – neither of us breathed. Time faded into obscurity.

Eventually, the strain of holding so rigidly still cracked my control and I began to shake. After that, the first thing to register was how cold I was – utterly freezing. The tips of my fingers were numb and I couldn't feel anything below my locked knees.

"Why?" The question came out as a hoarse whisper.

For the first time in what seemed like hours, Edward moved; his eyes flickering over my shivering form. Then he breathed, slowly inhaling through his nose as his eyes returned to mine, "This wasn't how I planned on bringing this up."

I waited.

He took a small step forward and raised his hands to grip my shoulders, "Lillie, come sit down."

"No," I jerked away and gave him a solid glare, "Tell me why you come here at night!"

He stopped immediately, dropping his hands and sighed. "To watch you sleep," his tone was full of resignation.

The glass slipped out of my suddenly slack fingers, but I never heard it hit the ground. What I did hear were his words echoing around in my head, harmonizing with the screeching sirens in an eerie sort of way.

To watch you sleep … watch you sleep ….

Trapped. I felt trapped – like the innocuous white plaster walls of the kitchen had fallen to rubble around me, revealing bricks of yellowing panchina stone lurking behind.

"Ah, ma per vedere i tuoi sogni, mia piccola Velata-Una - quello che un trattamento che sarebbe!"

I stopped breathing as that voice drifted lazily through my subconscious – horribly familiar despite the decades since I'd last heard it. It slithered across my skin, colder in tone than even his hands had been.

Dear, God, I thought as I closed my eyes. It's happening again.

For forty years, I had woken to the same thing nearly every single day. His face staring down at me – my own personal devil. It was his way of reminding me that I was property; available whenever and for whatever whim caught his fancy. And I had hated it – more even than the beatings or the bites – because it was the one thing he could do to me that couldn't result in my death.

And here I was, more than fifty years free, going through the same thing all over again.

When I opened my eyes, I fought with my unruly subconscious to see only Edward standing there in front of me. It was an uphill struggle as my mind tried to replace the golden-eyed vampire that I loved with the red-eyed vampire who had tortured me.

My head was screaming at me to get out, to tell him to leave and never come back; that I couldn't handle being the plaything of yet another sadistic blooddrinker. My heart wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; wanted to believe that he wasn't the same kind of vampire as he had been.

"How long?" It was about all I could manage to ask. How many nights had I lain in sleep, unaware of the being watching me?

He closed his eyes, his marble face emptying of emotion. When they opened again, the endless depth of them had been flattened by the shear power of his control, "Since the day Newton asked you to the dance."

At first, I couldn't reconcile his reference with a date. I had been expecting him to tell me that he'd been watching me since the accident – that would have made sense, considering what had happened and his admission at the meadow this afternoon. I had to think back very hard to remember something so mundane, so unimportant.

When I could finally place the event, I realized that it coincided with another occasion – it was the day Edward had started talking to me again. And it was only ten days ago.

"Why?" I still couldn't understand it – and I realized that I needed to. As much as I loved Edward, I would never be able to forgive him if I couldn't understand his reasoning. What he'd done was beyond simply an invasion of my privacy. He'd unknowingly dug up my past and thrust me straight back into it. If he had no more motivation than curiosity, then he was no better than the other one.

"Jealousy, at first," his voice started out inflectionless, hollow. "I spent so long trying to ignore everything I felt toward you – my thirst, my curiosity. I told myself that it was for the best – for you, for me, for my family. That I could only bring more pain to your life. I worked so hard to sit there beside you everyday and pretend that I was alone. And the more I tried, the more I couldn't seem to stop thinking about you.

"Then, to top it off, I couldn't manage to drown out the constant obsessive, inane babble from the likes of Mike Newton. Every single second of every single day you were on his mind – on many of their minds. At first, it was simply annoying. But, after a time, I found myself angry with him; the possessive way he thought of you, the daydreams, the …."

He faded into silence for a moment, seeming to put effort into unclenching his teeth.

"I heard it all day – the work-up to asking you out. And not just from him but from all of them! I was wound tighter than a spring by the time Biology rolled around; and not just from the incessant nervous blather coming from his head. I was actually anxious to hear your answer."

He shook his head, as though in amazement, "You have no idea how relieved I was when you turned him down – even I hadn't expected to feel like that. But your words were so cautious, so polite and I began to worry. Had you turned him down out of your own disinterest or was it merely out of reverence for your friend's previous claim? I had no way of knowing.

"And then the vultures converged," a wry chuckle. "Each time you turned them down, each time that flicker of annoyance flared in your eyes and turned down the corner of your mouth, I felt that same sense of relief wash over me. But I still couldn't be sure if there was someone else you fancied."

The barest hint of emotion leaked past his control, deepening his gaze.

"I found myself outside your house that night, outside your window. I tried to convince myself to leave – to stick with the pact I'd made after the accident. It almost worked. But then, through the glass, I heard you say something in your sleep – a single word that sounded so familiar. And I couldn't help myself."

My stomach did an impression of free falling, the vaguest hint of vertigo sweeping through me. In all my worry over the similarities between what Edward was doing now and what he had done then, I had completely lost sight of another, more important, issue – what often happened when I slept. I had known for a very long time that I spoke in my sleep – often screamed. At one time, I'd done so loud enough to waken neighbors. But that wasn't the only thing I did in my sleep. Sometimes, I would move things … and not with my hands.

My thoughts and emotions apparently did not register on my face because Edward continued without pause.

"And then, as I stood there smothered in your scent and admiring how peaceful you looked, I realized the inevitable. One day you would say 'yes' to Mike – or someone like him. That idea tortured me because what I wanted – more than anything else – was for you to say 'yes' to me," his control broke then and pure, raw emotion filled his liquid eyes and softened the hard lines of his face. "And then you said my name – it was so clear that I thought you'd woken and found me there. But you just turned your head away and continued to breathe deeply. I knew I should leave; that I didn't belong there. It wasn't fair to you. But, when I turned to go, you spoke again – just two words. 'Don't go'.

"That was when I realized that I couldn't live without you any longer – that I didn't want to."

Despite the fear I felt over what Edward might have witnessed, I couldn't deny the sensation of soaring my heart was experiencing. It was a moment before I realized that I wasn't fighting to keep from making subconscious comparisons between Edward and my previous captor. Because Edward's actions hadn't been motivated purely by curiosity or cruelty. He'd followed his heart as much as his intrigue.

I nodded my head in understanding, though I still needed more from him, "I understand why you came the first time – and I forgive you for intruding then. But I need to know why you keep coming every night."

This time, when he stepped forward and lifted his arm, I didn't flinch away. The back of his cold hand ghosted across my skin from my temple to my jaw, "Because I want to be close to you, Lillie. I feel empty, when I'm not with you – like I'm missing part of myself." His voice and look were utterly sincere.

I felt tears of relief prickling at the corner of my eyes, but I pushed them away as I looked at him. There was still one more thing I needed clarified, "Is that the only reason?"

He broke eye contact for a second, drawing another long breath.

"It's the dominant reason," he paused, when he heard my breathing hitch. "Though, I admit to being … intrigued by the things I hear."

I didn't understand, at first. What more could I possibly say in my sleep that he would find intriguing? We stood there, staring at each other as I tried to think back over my recent dreams. He'd been out of town on the two nights I had experienced nightmares – I silently thanked my lucky stars for that. If something else had happened, he surely would have mentioned it. So, what was left?

My internal machinations were mostly conducted in English – something I strived for so as to help me integrate to the best of my ability – but, every once in a while, I would slip into French or Italian. Normally, I didn't notice this. However, as I stood there looking at Edward's face with my internal voice running the linguistic gambit, it hit me.

Sleep talking. Sleep was the one time I had no control over. The one time when my memories, my subconscious mind took over. And my subconscious mind didn't care about my cover, wouldn't feel the need to maintain it.

"You … you …." The dizziness was back, full force, and I recognized the need to sit down. The dining chairs, they were the closest. I stumbled away from him toward the safety of the padded seats but my knees buckled halfway there.

Without a word, Edward swept me up in his arms and carried me through to the living room. Next thing I knew, he had deposited me onto the couch, my head somehow resting on a pillow.

He knelt beside me, his expression examining – as though he were a physician.

"You know … that I … I …." The words just wouldn't form. All this time. He'd known all this time.

"Haven't been telling me everything. Yes." There wasn't a hint of condemnation or anger in his declaration and its lack confused me.

"But you didn't … why didn't you say something?" I tried to sit up, feeling that this wasn't a topic I should address laying down.

Suddenly, there was a pale arm stretched across my chest, his cold hand pressed firmly into my shoulder, "Don't get up yet. Your eyes are still dilated."

His strength was far greater than my own, so I really had no say in the matter. Even so, I stubbornly strained against him for a moment before acknowledging defeat and slumping into the cushions. He was right, of course. The dizziness wasn't fully gone. Sitting up likely would have ended in my losing consciousness.

So I did the one thing I could do; I wallowed in shame and self-pity. I had been so careful with my answers over the last few days. And it was all for naught. He'd known I was lying to him from the very start – keeping secrets.

"You never said anything," I whispered, my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to look at his angelic face.

"No." Again, the absence of rage or blame.

"Why not?"

"Lillie," his tone was soft, pleading. "Look at me, please."

I turned my head toward him and opened my eyes but couldn't make myself meet his.

Silence fell between us and I could have sworn I heard little pieces of my heart falling away from the whole. I'd been caught in lies before, but it had never felt like this. Shame, fear, even resignation were the status quo, but this time there was something new; the pain of betrayal – not his but mine. How could he believe I loved him, when I so purposefully lied to him?

"You can sit up now, if you like." His restraining arm was withdrawn.

I did so automatically, mechanically; still refusing to meet his eyes. I felt the cushion next to me depress under his weight, but still he didn't speak. The quiet became uncomfortable, awkward.

"I understand that you've learned to be secretive – it's been essential to your survival. We're a lot alike, in that respect."

My throat felt swollen, a sure sign of impending waterworks. I tried to breathe past it, to force the emotion down. This wasn't the time for tears. I'd made my bed, now it was time to lay in it.

"I also understand that you have things in your past that you don't talk about – that you try not even to think about."

My eyes were firmly fixed in my own lap, my right thumb worrying its favorite path over my scar. I froze, when his hand slipped softly over mine, squeezing it in a reassuring way.

"But I want you to know that you can talk to me – about anything. I want you to – I want to know everything about you. But I won't force you to tell me anything you're not ready to tell me."

Shock and confusion shot through me and my eyes rose to scrutinize his face. What I found there only added to my bewilderment. Honesty.

"Now, I'm not going to promise that I won't get frustrated or curious – because it's just not who I am. And I can't promise that I won't ask questions that you won't want to answer. But, if you tell me you don't want to talk about it, I can promise that I'll do my best to respect your wishes."

The first tear slipped out, streaming a warm path down my face.

"The only thing I ask, in return, is that, whenever you do tell me something, you tell me the truth. And I'll do the same with you." His hand left mine, rising to my cheek and wiping the single tear away. "Does that sound reasonable?"

There was no way that I deserved this. It was just too … providential to be real. I scanned his eyes for a hint of falsehood, of resignation or humor. There wasn't any. He was being utterly serious and utterly honest.

I couldn't help the broken, sobbing gasp that escaped when I nodded my head in agreement. Then he was holding me, my face buried against the soft cotton of his still-open shirt, his hands running soothingly through my hair.

We stayed like that until my tears of mingled joy and shame faded into silence. When, at last, the shivering of emotional-release ceased, he pulled back to look at me.

A little embarrassed by my breakdown, I averted my eyes from his face. Looking for something – anything – else to focus on, I spotted the sodden place on his shirt. Wryly, I plucked at the fabric, "I think I've ruined your shirt."

His hand came up to gently nudge my chin upward.

Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to his face.

"It was well worth the ruining, I assure you." He smiled crookedly at me.

I scoffed softly, shaking my head in amused disbelief.

Now that the shock of acceptance and forgiveness had passed, my mind wandered back to linger upon his promise and request. I wasn't ready to tell him everything – I wasn't sure if I would ever feel comfortable doing that – but he had been patient and understanding this whole time. I owed him at least some answers. I didn't know what he'd want to know but his promise helped to assuage my fears.

I took his hands in mine, their stony texture somehow comforting, and met his eyes, "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you're being so … accommodating – not everyone would be, in your shoes."

He squeezed my hands gently.

"I know you have … questions," I swallowed the lump trying to lodge itself in my esophagus. "So, go ahead."

A/N: Hehe, I TOLD you he'd stop acting the fool this chapter. But, now, you'll just have to wait for the next one to see what he asks and what she's willing to tell him. ;P Hope you all enjoyed. Please Review! (It really makes my day).

PLEASE NOTE: I am not fluent in either French or Italian (though I do speak a little French from High School and College courses I took). All of my translations come from Google Translate. If you are fluent and you find mistakes in my story, please let me know. I am more than happy to fix them.

Translations:

Ah, ma per vedere i tuoi sogni, mia piccola Velata-Una - quello che un trattamento che sarebbe! - Ah, but to see your dreams, my little-Veiled One - what a treat that would be!