Disclaimer: SM owns everything in the Twiverse, but please don't steal my plot.

Okay, so… thisisthelastchapterbeforetheepilogue.

*ducks and runs for cover*

Seriously though, I'll explain more in the closing A/N, but trust me… I'm not abandoning my Roseward. It's just… it's time.

Chapter 25: Aftershock

Edward's POV

I walk without seeing, amble without direction, praying the earth will swallow me whole and leave no trace.

The night presses on me like a welcome embrace, and I accept its cover as I attempt to lose myself among the trees. My perfect recall provides no respite, and I torture myself with an endless loop of those damning words.

"I can do this for him. I must… It is why I was created."

The full sequence hurts, but only two words are required from my complete undoing.

"For him."

I could live with her selfishness, a desire for self-gratification alone.

I could almost respect it.

But to think she… a goddess among mortals… should have to do anything for me?

I cannot bear it.

Who am I to inspire her debasement? To be the unholy throne before which her perfection lays prostrate?

A Common Raven calls overheard, and I envy its freedom.

Oh, that I could take wing and disappear.

Or hurl myself into the nearest face of the mountain.

Anything to escape this gaping ache in the center of my dead chest.

"I can do this for him. I must…."

"I must."

Were those words the product of lust and longing, I would rejoice. Our coupling as a mandate, as a compulsion even… that would be welcome, flattering to be sure.

But this…

"I can do this for him. I must… It is why I was created."

My fists beat against my head, willing the words away.

Willing myself away.

As if in defiance, my mind conjures the way she looked before the end. She was so lovely beneath me, so painfully lovely and hungry and giving and…

… and I was a fool to believe any of it.

Every look has been a lie, every kiss a deception, and that is as it should be. How could I expect otherwise? Though my physicality may have intrigued her, how could she feel something sweeter than obligation? She sees all and knows what I am. Though ignorant of my past, she knows what I am.

And, lest I forget, she once loved a rogue, planned to pledge her life to his. The doctor's venom, it would seem, has not corrected this lone failing in her design and instead induced her to desire another beneath her, to give willingly what was stolen by the first.

Though I am no thief, I am just as unworthy.

"I can do this for him. I must… It is why I was created."

"It is why I was created."

I do not blame Mrs. Cullen for divulging the truth.

I should have done so long ago.

Nor am I angry with her foolhardy husband, a realization which surprises me. His intentions were clear from the first, foolishness and all. And though his effrontery was shocking, I know he acted in some misguided, wholly unsolicited attempt to pacify me.

This thought does not repulse me as I expect.

No, the fault lies with none other than I, and the blame with it. For all my overtures and emotions, for every cuddle and kiss, every giggle and sigh I elicited from her lips, one truth overshadows them all.

I did not and do not, could not and cannot deserve her.

And I was a first-rate fool to believe otherwise.

A pale hand grabs me from behind, nearly dislocating my shoulder with its force. "Where are you going?"

I am so lost in my thoughts, her presence startles me and I nearly lose my head. But her scent invades my core, reminding me of what has been lost, and I get myself right.

Right back to nothing.

"Please remove your hand from my person," I whisper, my emotions barely contained.

She gasps, shoving me forward, but I do not turn around. I hear the shift in her stance, the swipe of her hand as she brushes golden waves from her face.

She is the most beautiful creature I will ever know.

I shall not survive without her.

But I say nothing, picking particles of dust from my jacket as she stands at my back.

"I am not an animal," she hisses. "You will at least show me the respect of turning around."

I swallow hard as I am in no way strong enough to do so, my body trembling with conflicting urges to flee or fall at her feet.

Why won't she let me be?

"Please, Edward." Her whisper flutters across my skin like so many kisses, and I want to die. "Do not make me beg."

My mind returns to Rochester, to the moment her urgent pleas reached my telepathic hearing and halted my retreat the first time. Then she begged me to make it stop, and I wanted to oblige. I wanted to erase her pain.

Now I am its cause.

A failure in all things.

I steel myself with a squaring of the jaw and turn slowly around, resisting the pull of her gaze for two-and-a-quarter seconds. In a glance, I see her confusion, taste her agony, and feel her indignation. I am awash in her every feeling, and it is too much.

She is too much.

"Will you leave me unguarded in this wilderness?" From her tone, this is the second part of her question, and I regret missing the first. "With no one to defend me?"

"I shall stay until the Cullens return," I reply, having just decided. "But fear not. I shall give you a wide berth of course."

"A wide berth?"

"There is no need to pretend now." I am surprised by how calm I sound. "You have done well, almost too well, but such is no longer necessary in light of recent events."

Her breath hitches, unhinging me with her sadness. "Why are you saying these things to me?"

"Come now, love." The endearment rings false, and she narrows her eyes. "Let us end this charade at last."

"Charade?"

"Can you think of a better word?"

A ripe silence follows, the kind preceding the most violent of storms, and I brace for its descent.

"Edward." Her deeper timbre resounds like thunderclaps in my ear. "You need to explain yourself. I will not ask you again."

I examine my nails to keep from crushing her to my chest as I beg her forgiveness. "It is I who should question you."

She looks as if I slapped her. "About what?"

Her pain wounds me, and I decide not to injure us both with additional discussion.

One humiliation per eternity is sufficient.

"Pardon my rudeness." I look toward the horizon. "The affairs of your heart are no business of mine."

Anger and incredulity fill her voice, the latter winning by a wisp. "What has happened to you? Why are you being so… different?"

"This is who I am. Who I have always been."

"No." She steps closer. "This is not the Edward I know."

"Please." I cross my hands in front of my face, blocking my exquisite view. "I am asking you to respect my need for space."

"And I am asking you to respect my need for answers. Will you leave me twice unsatisfied?

The dual-edged words hit their intended mark, and I stumble backward. Had she physically accosted me, the blow would have been kinder.

"How can you say such a thing now?" I raise my eyes though my voice is quiet. "For all of our banter and play, how can you say that now?"

"You invaded my mind without permission." She steps even closer, unable to see how my body recoils. "I assume you want to know how I feel."

"I..." Fresh fury fills my lungs, choking me. "Do not blame me for learning the truth. I should have heard it from your own lips."

"My lips were otherwise occupied at the time."

I gape at her. "This amuses you, doesn't it? You have laid me low and take your..."

"I have laid you low?" she cries. "Are you delusional or simply obtuse?"

"It matters not anymore." Her anger gives me leave to disregard her mood, and I straighten myself. "This was a mistake, and we should have… no, I should have known better. But thank the stars there is no lasting harm done, nothing from which we cannot recover with adequate time and space to do so."

Her face falls at the final stanza, her rosy eyes piercing me. "Time and space?"

"Of course." I shrug, the gesture ripping my heart in twain. "Even a creature as gifted as I cannot undo the past. But with time and space, we can somehow get…."

"Stop saying that." She covers her ears and turns away. "I do not want time and space from you."

"You do not want it with me."

She whirls back to me. "You presume so much!"

"I presume nothing. I heard your thoughts."

"Yes, you heard my thoughts!" She throws up her hands, exasperation sullying the air. "But you know nothing of their meaning, their origin, or their importance relative to the greater truth."

I fold my arms. "I know what I heard."

"And if you walk away now." I note the tremble in her voice. "If you leave me now, what you heard is all you will ever know. Of me."

Our impassioned eyes lock, each moment of silence adding another layer to the dangerous wall rising between us. I am afraid to move, to speak, to blink, watching my snap decision grow legs and speed off without me.

I had no plan when I vacated the rock, no agenda beyond escaping her long enough to piece myself together again. But she will not allow such mending, seems unaware of my injuries, and has set her own terms.

It is quite suddenly now or never.

I want to look away but cannot. Her resolute gaze penetrates my ache for distance, and I feel myself leaning forward to erase the abyss with four steps and a kiss.

But those damaging words echo in my mind once more, robbing me of strength and the wherewithal to stay. She does not want me, her current ultimatum to the contrary, and that I shall not forget.

I can never forget.

I fill my eyes with her one last time, an addict's final hit.

"As you have said, let it be so."

There is a sharp intake of breath, a widening of her eyes, but nothing else.

I turn away once more, heading down the mountain.

This time, she does not follow.

—B—I—

The next thirteen days are the longest of my existence. I feel every second as though it must pass through my body before dissolving into meaningless dust.

Such will be the substance of my eternal days.

I keep my promise, staying safely and steadfastly away from her. I cannot see, hear, or smell her, though her essence has taken up stubborn residence beneath my skin, on my mind, and in the cavern where my heart used to reside.

Her supernatural gift? Omnipresence.

There is a near-miss in our piano parlor when we choose the same moment to seek solace in a sonata. But I blur out the backdoor before she has a chance to speak and do not return to the house until the Cullens' voices invade my hearing for the first time in a fortnight.

I cross my self-appointed boundary line and follow the path of their car toward the house, reciting The Declaration of Independence backwards by syllable to keep from unintentionally eavesdropping on her.

She can no longer exist.

They share cheerful chatter and memories about their holiday, but when their thoughts return to the house, only one expects a blissful couple inside. The other is cautious and almost afraid.

He is the one I seek.

To my relief, he sends in his bride alone, whispering about a private matter he must discuss with me. She is curious, but her desire to see her daughter quickly usurps her interest in our masculine secrets. With a kiss to her husband's cheek, she opens the front door calling the name I have neither heard nor spoken in thirteen days.

And on instinct, I sprint in the opposite direction.

"Edward, wait," my maker calls out, and I come to a stop.

I lay a shaky hand against my heaving chest, leaning against a sturdy fir for support. My eyes are closed, but I sense when he is close enough for intimate conversation.

"Carlisle…"

I have not spoken his name in two years, and he is equally gratified and alarmed. "Edward?"

I lick my lips, attempting to speak again, but the words do not come. He waits, and with a heavy sigh, I raise my eyes to meet his. I let him study me, too guilty to hide, too weak to protest.

I feel his gaze everywhere at once, in every place I hurt, and I almost reach out to touch him, to lose myself in the paternal love he ever offers despite my repudiations.

But he looks away before I summon the courage, and I do not know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"You are leaving," he says evenly.

"Yes, I…." I cannot elaborate. "Yes."

He folds his arms, and I wince at the coming inquisition.

"When?"

His query is so gentle and concerned I could weep. "Now."

"Will you return?"

I palm the back of my neck. "I cannot say."

He nods, his mind flipping through a dozen replies, all of which I deserve.

None of which he utters.

An image of a smiling Rosalie rises in his mind, and he brushes it aside.

A second urge to cry closes my throat, and I fist my hands at my sides.

I am reaching my limit.

"Where will you go, son?"

I am so far gone the endearment comforts me a moment, and I pause to consider his question. There is nowhere I wish to be, no safe place anywhere.

Anymore.

My maker's hands slip into his pockets, and I unconsciously mimic the action. I touch something foreign and forgotten, and for the first time since the second night she changed me, the pressure in my chest slackens enough for me to speak clearly.

"North." I meet his eyes again. "I am heading north."

So as I said above, after a short epilogue in Rose's POV, "Black Ice" will come to an end. Their story is FAR from over, but this leg of the journey definitely is. Expect the sequel to begin a few weeks after the epilogue posts…

… unless I have trouble selecting a title, LOL! Y'all know my Roseward about as well as I do, and I can't just use any old thing, so suggestions are welcome! Full credit will be given, of course.

Finally, thanks for taking this ride with me. I love all my stories, but my Roseward is special to me, and I heart each and every one of you for your support and encouragement along the way.

PS – "A Love Worth Defending" readers…. I was sidelined with a VERY busy Mommy week, but expect Ch16 by Tuesday… maybe as soon as tomorrow!

Love and light to you all!

xoxo