EPOV

My eyes blinked open, and I sensed a sheet of sweat veiling my surely white face only seconds after I'd regained consciousness. The lights still flickered, though their brightness diminished and augmented through a gray haze that had me questioning my ability to stay awake – alive – maybe dead? – a minute longer. The stall walls swirled, and my stomach tumbled down the rest of my body, jumped up again, and then repeated the process. There were many things I was unaware of, and one of them was how my hands had gone from fisting my damp sweater to gripping the sides of the toilet bowl in front of me. I dry heaved and felt somewhere within me one hundred sirens alerting me to the state that my body was in, forcing me to put up a weak fight against the mist that blocked most of my thoughts. I questioned myself regarding the last few days. Had I so much as stopped to eat? When had I last slept? Had I felt as sick during that period of time as I did now?

I coughed weakly and put all of my energy into the act of standing up, leaning heavily on the restroom door and, after opening it, on every vertical surface I had the chance to lay my hands on. My head hurt so much I swear I wished for a couple of miserly seconds that someone would just rip it off my neck, and every step that I took was intercepted by waves of dizziness that refused to cease their pestering. I stumbled on the shadow of my feet, bumped against the walls as if incredibly strong gusts of wind were coming from all directions, and left my handprints there, with the sweat that had gathered over my palms. I wanted to drop on the floor and sleep until I woke up next to Jacob; I wanted to forget this. It sounded absurd, even to my fogged mind, but I wished more than anything that the recent events had been erased from my memory, that even the knowledge that I had to eat something, anything, as soon as possible, could completely vanish. I needed a bed…floor…something, where I could finally collapse. Goddamnit, stop moving. I couldn't keep up… I couldn't… There were so many shadows, replacing singular human figures, and colors didn't seem like colors anymore. Just what the fuck is happening? Where was Jacob? Hell, this place was so different from Forks… No… Fribourg? Ethan – the monster's right hand – had said he would be here soon, but I couldn't see a pale face anywhere. A blur – maybe if I caught a blur… But everything was a blur, so how could I distinguish him from every other ill-defined shape? Edward, come on… Help me out…

Wait, that was me…

"Hey, pal, do you need help?" a deep voice said. I felt a warm body brush against mine and a strong hand around my elbow. An unwanted image appeared in my head, making me take a sharp breath and stumble forward. This time, a pair of arms wrapped around my torso, as my legs finally gave out, and in my semi-conscious state, I didn't know whether to be afraid or grateful.

"Yes," I croaked. Unable to help it, I leaned against the stranger's body and attempted to find my footing while trying to make out his features. He was pale, I realized, and I was about to sigh in relief, thinking that Ethan had found me at last, when I noticed that his eyes were too light-colored to belong to a vampire. And he was warm and solid…I could just fall asleep…

The stranger led – or dragged – me to a bench, which seemed to be miles away from wherever we had been, and when I sat down, the warmness that had seeped into my flesh, the odd odor he emanated, deserted my narrow field of detection. Vaguely, I heard the churning of several train carriages and their cutting the air as they passed by with impressive speed, heard low and distorted voices and quiet footsteps, all the time wondering if being underwater would make me feel differently. Some seconds must have passed before I found the courage to open my eyes; when I did, shapes had a more defined outline, and they didn't go back and forth, like they had done just moments before. I swallowed heavily and took notice of the dryness in my throat, before I realized that my hands were gripping the bench as if my life depended on it.

"Here, kid, drink this."

The stranger had come back, and I noticed that he was tall and buff, with fair hair that didn't go far beyond the limits of a military haircut. He wore a friendly smile, which, somehow, looked out of place on his roundish face, and I must have recoiled when he crouched down next to me, because it completely vanished after that. Still, he handed me the glass of water he'd brought, and I took it with shaky hands and a tentative smile – I hoped it was a smile, at least –, without thinking for a second about this man's reasons to help me. Maybe Europeans are all nice and trustworthy…

"Are you okay?" he asked, after I'd finished drinking whatever was in the glass, hoping that it was just water with sugar. Immediately, I gave myself a mental reprimand – not everybody in the world was out to get me. He's not going to hurt you. He's not him. He's not him.

"Yeah," I replied truthfully. I could feel some of my awareness returning to me, my head clearing a little, and the aridness in my throat being replaced by something that enabled me to speak with more ease, even though I still wished that I could close my eyes and sleep for a few decades. The blonde man – the kind man – stared attentively at me for a minute, with his lips curled up, and there was just something odd about his grin, as if it wasn't truly sincere, as if it hid second intentions. He was a stranger to me, but was I stranger to him? Even though these distrustful questions didn't cease to run through my head, I said, "Thank you."

"You're American, yes?"

I answered that I was and tried to remember where I'd heard an accent like his before. It wasn't very noticeable, but hints of it sometimes transpired through his speech, a rather heavy, sharp intonation weighing down on some words. Despite my doubts regarding his true intentions, I accepted the chocolate bar that he then offered me, so that I could regain some energy and think clearly afterwards. While I ate the delicious piece of unhealthy junk he'd kindly handed me, however, I could only focus on its heavenly taste – how long had I gone without giving in to the pleasures of life? – and the little pieces of peanuts that it contained, refraining, nevertheless, from making strange sounds. It occurred to me that the chaotic way I'd handled things after killing Ephraim could have endangered my son's health (perhaps it had), and I cursed my lack of consideration for the fact that I had life inside of me and for the vow I'd made to myself, to Thomas. To Jacob, also. I suppose there was no need for me to promise out loud that I would always try to come back home in one piece, that I wouldn't be thoughtless and inconsequential and disrespectful – because I considered taking someone's ever-present care for granted disrespectful –, seeing as Jacob and I's relationship, in spite of suffering from weak moments, rested on a base of mutual trust, and that was how we worked. We had to attempt to put ourselves' in each other's proverbial shoes before making certain decisions. Of course, I hadn't decided to starve myself and break down in a stall, but, perhaps, I could have tried to focus on something other than my disquiet.

As I finished eating the chocolate bar, I realized that the man was still smiling, rather eerily, in my opinion, as if he was analyzing my every gesture without wanting to make it obvious, as if he didn't intend to drop a ping of unease in the pit of my stomach, despite the fact that he was very clearly searching for something in my posture and in my facial expression – a sign that could prove whatever theory he had running through his head. This man wanted something from me, and trying to convince myself that he was helping me out of pure solidarity could lead me to another mount of trouble. For the love of all that was holy, it was enough. I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. I couldn't stand this maddening chain of events – disaster after disaster –, any longer, and damn it all to Hell if I was going to let a stranger prevent me from ending this for once and for all.

With this in mind and after clearing my throat, I slowly sat up, wobbling only a bit, and subtly moved away from him. "Thank you so much." I smiled. Openly. Like a sincere person would smile. "I honestly don't know what would have happened to me if it weren't for you. Is there anyway I can repay you?"

We might as well get over it.

The sides of his lips lowered a bit, and I was grateful for the slight change in attitude. "There is, indeed." He took a step forward, and I held my breath as a way of preventing myself from taking a step back in turn. "Have you, by chance, heard of a family named Cullen?"

"Who wishes to know?" I asked warily, hopefully without betraying my innocent façade. The blonde's clear eyes danced yet again over the lines of my face, searching for some kind of clue, which I wasn't at all willing to give to him. He was rather beefy, just a bit of a challenge for my physical strength, but I trusted – no, I didn't, but I told myself I did – that I could rely on my natural swiftness, and surely, someone here would take notice of a teenage boy being chased by an older man. I looked around. Well…maybe not. What the hell had happened? Had there been an epidemic while I was unconscious for two seconds? It seemed as if mostly everyone who had been waiting here before I'd gone to the bathroom had vanished into thin air, and the only ones left were me, this guy, who had woken up the cynic in me, and some workers. Or, at least, those were the ones I was aware of. I thought I heard voices behind me, but I couldn't be sure. Going back to Plan A, I could see that the likelihood of me getting into a fight with this stranger and living to tale the tale wasn't nearly high enough for me to risk my handsome face, which Jacob liked most ardently, so it would be best to see what he wanted from me and my family, exactly.

"We do," a female voice answered. Spinning on the heel of my shoe, I began to count the elements that formed the circle that was closing in on me, and I was inevitably reminded of times long gone, when I thought I was in love with Bella, and what could have happened to her in Port Angeles. A shudder ripped through my body. There was that word again, scraping my memories, leaving gashes on those that I intended to lock away for good. The shadow of that day in the forest filtered through the cracks in my mind. My heart reacted to it.

There weren't more than six people around me, including the blonde man, and they all approached me with the clear desire to get the answers they wanted. Four of them were fair-haired, relatively tall women, and they bore fire in their light-colored eyes. The accent – it indicated that they had come from Northeastern lands. Who was known for living in these areas? Which legends went from mouth to mouth there?

"I do know the Cullens," I stated. There was certainly in my expression something that they could pick up on. A hint of resentment. The sting of being falsely accused. I'd been quick to catch on. These were Children of the Moon, creatures that lost all free will when the beams of the full moon shone down on them, but they were also people, apparently not more harmful than I was. They were grieving the loss of their companions, members of their kind, who had been killed by my family. My throat ached. They'd had to do that, I convinced myself. Humans had been in danger, unaware of the threat that skirted their living area.

A curvy woman, perhaps the shortest, fixed her green gaze on me. "You're Edward Cullen, I assume. The youngest one," she said.

"Masen," I corrected through gritted teeth. "My name is Edward Masen. I don't want to have any connection to those people." I made sure that my eyes became glassy, as if I was reliving what had happened when Carlisle found out that I was pregnant.

They loathed my family. It was evident in the way they eyed me, like I was to blame for the deaths of members of their species. If I could make them believe that I wasn't fond of the Cullens either, then perhaps they'd keep me alive until Ethan arrived. When he did… Well, I had no idea what would happen. The present was what I had to focus on.

The green-eyed woman shifted her gaze to the one that stood beside her, a beauty with long platinum hair, and drew her eyebrows together. The blonde returned her look, before turning her head in my direction with an air of wariness.

"So, you know about their being…" she trailed off, and I nodded. "You're human, though, because you mated with Ephraim Black."

Immediately, a cold spark shot up my spine. Mated with Ephraim Black. The name, the phrase, the way she said it – it all made me sick. Mixed with the foul taste in the back of my mouth, a yawning anger threatened to steal all my self-control, push me towards a path that I didn't wish to follow. There came those images again, cutting through my sanity, almost forcing me to feel again what I'd felt when he put me through that. How dare she assume that I had been willing to… I wanted to throw up, lash out, break something. Or run. My hair stood on end, and I got the sense that if I didn't do any of those things, I'd eventually find myself in a very bad situation.

"As if I'd ever be willing to do that…" I bit out, before I could stop myself. A lump formed in my throat. I tried to see if what I'd said had shocked them, if they were aware that their boss was capable of doing something so horrible, but I found, much to my dismay, acknowledgment in their eyes. They weren't pawns. They were no better than Myles, who had chosen to participate in such a twisted plan in order to earn more money than he needed to survive. The world was filled with excessively ambitious individuals, and their greed pulled them to such low levels! I couldn't say it appalled me, because I'd heard too many thoughts and seen too many dark fantasies to be so greatly affected by this sort of thing, but now, inevitably, I looked at these people with negative criticism clouding my mind. "What do you want from them?" I asked softly. I couldn't let these new bits of information ruin my little performance. "Um…" I chuckled with no amusement. "I'm willing to bet you wish them no good. Who does? They're life-wrecking, careless monsters."

A thin young man and the green-eyed woman nodded at the same time, obviously agreeing with me.

"And what is it, then, that you want from me?"

Get it over with. Just get it over with.

The blonde man who'd given me the chocolate bar stepped beside me. "We should do this somewhere else."

"They don't care," I said loudly, as soon as I saw him reaching for my arm. "After what happened...with Ephraim, they thought I'd been lying to them all along. They thought I was…a demon. I ran away from home, and we haven't spoken since then. They don't care about me."

I honestly didn't know what it was with most supernatural creatures. In this world, revenge was carried out with radicalism, directed at an innocent target, as if killing the object of your enemy's affections would give you some sense of power, as if the pain, the loss, that your enemy felt could alleviate yours in any way. I didn't know. Even when I'd been a vampire, I'd always thought that if something were to happen to someone I loved, I would fix my wrath on the one who'd been responsible for it, not their mate, or their child, or even their friends. But these werewolves' true wish was to make my family suffer even more than they had, and they now had the opportunity to carry out their plan.

Another woman, tall, redheaded and older-looking, approached me slowly, with a sympathetic expression on her pale face. "We can see you've been through a lot," she said softly. "It's alright. We don't wish to harm you in any way. We just want to know a few things about the Cullens."

"Like why they killed Walter and Alina," said the thin young man. "Or, better, why Ephraim sent them to America to distract your coven if they had no business with you anymore. Why did he need our services if you weren't under their protection?"

I refrained from asking in turn why in the hell they'd followed Ephraim's instructions if they didn't expect some of them to get hurt. Instead, I pretended to be shocked, all the while cursing myself for digging a hole. "What are you?" I questioned. "In fact, how do you even know that they are a coven and not a family?"

A girl with startlingly blue eyes decided to speak up. "You must have heard the legends…about the lycanthropes." Indeed. "And our boss…you must already know what he was." I nodded solemnly. "He told some of us to travel to the Olympic Peninsula and hide in the forest at night. He said our presence would distract the bloodsuckers, that it was the only way to get to you. Most of our missions failed."

"And some of us died by their hand," the boy added.

"Ephraim wasn't exactly fond of the Cullens, if you didn't know," I said. "Whether he sent your friends on a suicide mission, or if he just wanted them to kill my fa–the Cullens, I have no idea. I suppose you wouldn't accept the job if he'd told you what he actually had in mind. But, as I said, I haven't spoken to them in a while, so I didn't even know about this. I was under nobody's protection. I simply tried to hide from Ephraim."

There was a moment of silence, in which they all shared looks and small nods, as if they were having a tacit conversation about what their next decision would be. Clearly, they had something against Ephraim, as well, and they absolutely despised my family, though they now knew that their friends' deaths hadn't really been their fault and their revenge plans suddenly seemed ridiculous to them. Knowing that the person that they'd been about to destroy shared their distaste lessened my chances of getting killed today, because they also thought my expiration would have no impact on the Cullens' lives. And neither would their attempts to end my family. They didn't stand a chance. Still, they looked forward to asking something from me.

"I hope you don't think we intended to hurt you," said the blonde man. "We just needed some answers."

"Of course," the redheaded woman rushed to assure me. "We also wanted to thank you. We've had our suspicions about Ephraim Black's true intentions for a while. We're glad someone finally got rid of him."

There came that spine-chilling feeling again. "How do you–"

"We were to meet in Tuscany, where he planned on taking you," the girl informed. She was perhaps the only truly nice person amongst the group. "We saw his car, but he wasn't the one driving it. If you had simply escaped, he would have called us and burst our eardrums telling us to look for you. We followed you, and I saw you washing your hands by a river nearby, when you finally stopped."

I breathed out a shaky sigh and closed my eyes. "Okay. So what do you want now?"

The blonde man didn't look very keen on letting me go without taking something from me first, but before he could reply, the redheaded woman took a step forward. "Nothing," she said firmly, glaring at her friend. "Enough with the adventures and the schemes. You know that if you try anything against us in the future, you will have someone worse than Ephraim at your doorstep."

"Nice to know." I smiled sarcastically. "Trust me: after this, I wouldn't dare threaten anyone's safety."

"We know, Edward." She nodded. "We know."

«-»

I huffed for what seemed like the millionth time now. I was glad that Ethan's gift made him undoubtedly more powerful than most vampires, because speed simply wasn't his forte, and that was a vampire's most important ability, in my opinion. I'd taken the opportunity to steal a pack of chips from the station's bar while I waited for him, and I'd already pampered my starved stomach. There was a little finger poking my mind – I think it was called guilt –, a result of the action that my lack of money and extreme hunger led to. Honestly, I attempted to distort my moral standards, make it seem as if stealing a pack of chips was no big deal, but that goddamn finger wouldn't stop prodding my brain. Well, I might as well indulge in self-loathing while I wait for Ethan, the slowest vampire on Earth. No – for the thousandth time, Cullen, stop going down that route. It wasn't healthy.

What had happened only a couple of hours before still confounded me somewhat, and now that I gave it some thought, I felt like I'd been hallucinating. To summarize, a few werewolves had followed me here, figuring that, since their boss was dead, they could just take revenge on a vampire family that'd been responsible for the deaths of close ones, despite the fact that they'd endangered themselves and practically waved a red flag under my family's noses; then, under the belief that the one they planned to kill also hated the Cullens and that these 'careless monsters' hated him in return, they backed off and went home with a wounded conscience, knowing that it was impossible for them to avenge their friends' deaths, and one or two of them clearly wanted to extort a large sum of money from me. I wasn't sure if grief could mess with one's head so badly. The Children of the Moon were no longer these culturally miserable, analphabetic people who lived in caves and focused on staying alive. They were an abundant species, a group of civilized citizens who displayed, unfortunately, a type of behavior that I would never be comfortable with. I didn't really want to think about the reasons for that, because they made me see people that I was supposed to love in a different light. My biological father, for instance. I'd loved him – I still loved him –, but he hadn't been a very honest man, really, and I felt sort of…ashamed, as if I didn't deserve any of the presents I was given, or such a good education, or even the music lessons… It simply wasn't fair that people who worked harder than my father had weren't able to provide their children with the means that I'd had access to without lifting a finger.

Anyway, that didn't mean I had to be like him. I touched my stomach and immediately smiled, thinking that Thomas would be given a stable life thanks to my hard work and not a couple of lies that could get my ass saved.

My eyes travelled in the direction of the large clock that hung on the wall I was facing. Ethan had said he'd be here in three hours, which meant that I honestly didn't have to wait so long. I could see through the tall window the sun falling and the sky being painted in messy stripes of orange and pink. I used to think that the beauty of twilight was nothing but an illusion, a fleeting pleasure that I could indulge in, always aware that darkness approached, that yet another day of light, when, perhaps, I'd had a chance to feel a little better, was coming to an end – there was no hope left, no dreams to attenuate the loneliness that rested inside my bones.

But, right now, in this nearly empty station, with sleep clouding my vision, I could only smile faintly, appreciate whatever I had to appreciate – I couldn't exactly remember what it was, but I knew I had something to be thankful for – and allow the loveliness of the sunset to calm my spirit. I rubbed my hands against my arms and hugged myself for a little while. And I thanked the Lord. After that, I closed my eyes and leaned the side of my head against the wall.

«-»

"Hey, kid," a gentle voice whispered, and an equally gentle hand landed on my shoulder. "Come on, Edward, wake up."

The sky had become a flat Persian blue rug while I'd been sleeping, so deeply that it took me more than a minute to realize that I was not alone, and when I opened my eyes, I saw, first of all, a pair of ochre orbs. Ethan, like most vampires, was a very handsome man, and I was willing to bet that he'd been in his thirties when he'd been changed. I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hands over my face, brushed the sleep off my eyes. The strands of Ethan's sandy hair gained a definite outline. The dim light that shone down on us from above made me squint, realize that it was probably time to leave this place and notice the sincerity in my new companion's kind smile. I wanted to trust this man. Maybe I already did, seeing as I allowed him to guide me towards the exit without asking him where we were going, what he was planning to do. I knew only that he was kind, that he wished me no harm and that he owned a very nice-looking car.

"You must be cold," he murmured once we were inside, turning the heater on. I rubbed my hands together.

"Ethan?" I said quietly. The car was parked in a dismal street, sided by houses that appeared to be about to crumble, and the silence of the night – the kind of silence that doesn't speak – enabled every word we exchanged to be heard with perfect clarity, no matter how lowly it was uttered.

"Yes?" he said, handing me a dark blue backpack.

"Hi."

I heard him chuckle while I rummaged through the contents in the backpack. "Hi," he whispered. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I said distantly. Picking up the large sweatshirt that I found in the bag, I wondered if he knew what the piece of clothing meant to me, how much comfort it gave me, and I immediately shrugged off the hoodie I'd been wearing for days, so that I could put on the recently bought sweatshirt. It still bore the smell of a clothes shop.

"There's something in the bag that I'm sure you'd like to use now."

Indeed, there were things there that I'd thought I'd never have the chance to set my eyes on again. My documents. My mobile phone. Sleep deprivation usually made me edgy, but tonight I just craved silence, and I was just a trifle weepy. A line of salty water rested on my lower eyelashes.

"Where did you find this?"

Ethan grimaced. "Ephraim hid your things in the car trunk."

"Thank you," I mumbled, and the threads of water became heavier. As soon as I got a hold of my cell phone, I searched for Dad's number in my contacts' list and immediately hit the call button when I found it. I couldn't have heard more than two rings, before Carlisle's voice reached my ear, strained and panicky.

"Edward? Edward, is that you?"

"Dad…" The sides of my lips curled up. I blinked, and two weighty tears fell. "Dad, I'm fine. I'm fine," I rushed to reassure him. How was the family doing, I wanted to ask. How was Jacob? I hoped in vain that my disappearance hadn't caused them too much stress, that they hadn't exploited themselves as they tried to get some information about my whereabouts.

He sighed heavily, and I swear I heard him curse under his breath. "Thank God. Thank the Lord. Where are you, son?"

"I'm in Switzerland right now, but please don't come here. I'm with…I'm with someone who's going to help me get back home. I'll be home soon. I promise."

"Edward, you have to give me more than that. Who are you with? May I speak to them?"

Ethan had already started the car, and he now stared at me with serenity in his tawny eyes, showing that he didn't object to the idea. Yet, the more we delayed our return, the weepier I got, the harder it was for me to contain my restlessness, the more I missed Jacob, my family, my room. I knew that explaining everything to Dad right now wasn't the wisest idea, because I could already imagine him posing questions that Ethan would only be able to answer in a face-to-face situation, when we weren't being pushed by the recent events, by the fresh memories, in an environment where neither of us felt comfortable.

I felt so tired.

"Not right now, Dad," I murmured, letting my head rest on the car window. "You'll meet him soon. Tell Jacob not to worry too much, please."

I hung up before he could say anything else, closed my eyes and fell asleep to the rumbling of the car engine, my mind finally at ease.

Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Soon, I'd be home. My sweet, sweet home.

A/N: Well, hello, faithful readers, and thank you so much for sticking with me. I do realize that the time I waste doing nothing while you patiently wait for another chapter causes many of you to think that I've given up on this story, but that isn't true. I can't promise you that my updates will be quick, only that I will finish this fic before we move on to the ones I've already begun to write. Finally, Ed is free of all this drama, and now he can come back into the arms of a very worried Jacob. I hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter, and, who knows, maybe it won't take me too long to write the next one. If you wish to review, oh, please, do follow that lovely wish – I really, really don't mind. Also, happy birthday, Edward. How old? 17? Again? Damn, boy…