A/N: I'm just letting you awesome folks know that I went back to the previous chapter and made some changes, added a few sentences, and embellished the story some more last night, thus, making it a more appropriate length by my standards. Now, go on, enjoy!

oOo

Previously;

"Until you tell me to walk away," I remind her. I feel like I don't know myself any longer. Ever since I admitted my feelings to myself, I feel like I've been unhinged at the seams of my sagacity, thus, becoming unpredictable when it comes to "rational" behavior. In other words, dangerous.

Specially while trying to keep Bella from getting wind of my growing feelings for her. I have to constantly catch myself around her, which means I'm chastising myself more than ninety-eight percent of the time.

"I'll have you for eternity if you keep saying that," she warns. I can only wish and hope that somehow that might become a reality.

"For eternity it is," I vow, she just doesn't realize it.

oOo

Memoirs of Her Scent

Ch23: Guilt

Gylt, as said in the Old English. By definition, guilt is the fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime, a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation.

As of recent, a weighing sense of profound guilt has invaded my mind and taken my heart captive, causing my soul to shrivel and wither. Sincerely, I don't like admitting to this guilt. It only goes to show that what I am feeling is, in every sense of its definition, wrong.

I didn't want these pure feelings of love and enlightenment to be tainted by something so, plaguing. Simply because I can't remember the last time I felt any emotion that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, belonged only to me alone. Untainted or tangled to the other emotions trapped in the room, unadulterated, like this love I was growing into possession.

Selfish. The shrewd word pierced my thoughts wantonly. Wryly I found myself back to where I had started my afternoon away from Isabella, drowning in the depths of my warranted guilt.

Because one only feels guilt when one feels they've done something wrong or failed someone. And I have certainly failed someone I deeply care about, my greatest supporter in existence. No matter what I do, in the process of trying to do something right, I end up doing wrong by another. Someone's always abound to suffer by my hand, one way or another, whether I wish it so or not.

Alice, the source of my guilt and the bane of my existence, is the one obligation I am currently morally and legally bound to. Morally, I have failed her in every sense of our legal commitment. My wife, mate, keeper of my heart, guardian of my soul, and confidente, that's what Alice meant to me not too long ago.

Now, I hold her in contempt. Don't get me wrong, I still hold her close at heart in that crevice she has so rightly earned. Understanding that paths meeting and crossing to a point where they've managed to get sown together so very intricately will constantly remain tightly woven.

After all, roads have a cunning way of always leading you back to the breadcrumbs of once shared history. And history is not something that cannot be easily forgotten or dismissed. However, some things that cannot be changed have shifted. Including my love for Alice.

Case being, I can't entirely uproot my self, heart, and soul, from what I had, (or is it have?), with Alice. What's between us can't be killed, simply because I've found out what true love really feels like.

No, if anything, it makes everything feel like a caged labyrinth in which you are tangled by ropes of blazing tongues of fire. Painful.

Love, pain, and suffering,I muse, are all masochists trying to make their threesome, one too many, work in spite of their long history of tragic love affairs.

History.

Everyone has always been under this false impression that I love history and I've never bothered to correct them otherwise. It would often require too much of an explanation, so I leave it be. But it can be safe to say that I abhor history to the very essence of my existence.

As such, I make a habit of knowing, that which threatens my peace of mind. It falls somewhere along the lines of keep your friends close and your enemies closer. History and I are too similar in circumstance for my taste, much less my peace of mind.

As a vampire, one can never go back and change what's passed. The past is something that not even a vampire has the power to change, unfortunately. Vampires only have the power to mold our future and to see the world change, evolve, and grow while we remain the same, trapped in our past with a foot in the present and a weary eye in the future. Much like history, wouldn't you say?

I've always had more than a little trouble being part of the accepting crowd. Lack of acceptance, in a way, is what brought me to where I am today. If I had accepted the age limitations and waited until I was the minimum age to join the war, I might have avoided being turned into a vampire all together. But I don't like to play "what if's", I only know what was and what I lack the power to change, which means I leave well of it alone.

History is history and it will continue being made, that is something I have no power over and cannot be stopped.

Closing my eyes I concentrate on the easy breeze blowing around me and the warmth of the two fifteen sun reflecting off my skin in an attempt to turn my mind off. It works for about two seconds.

I should head home, I think as a smile tugs at my lips at the promise of seeing Bella in another twenty minutes. Lately, this is how I've been keeping time, counting the hours, minutes, and seconds until I can see her again…

With a frustrated sigh, I swallow my guilt in an attempt to push it aside and obliterate it completely. No such luck. Opening my eyes, I glance around me and stare at my surroundings, taking every detail in and remembering every memory made on these grounds.

How I'd come here after almost killing Bella the day of her birthday and buried my sorrow and myself in its very soil. It seems like an eternity ago, even to me. Then, I didn't know I would fall in love with her, but looking back, I think I fell in love with her that very day. I can even recall the very moment with vivid clarity.

The rain was not as cool as it should have felt against my cold, granite skin; on the contrary, it felt, almost, impeccably warm. Like the touch of delicate fingertips, warmed by the passionate whirls of life…

I threw my head back, closing my eyes against the falling rain that smoldered my golden strands of hair to my forehead, and relished the feeling of rain's warm caressing fingertips against my skin and senses. My facial features finally at peace as they found their medium.

For some senseless inexplicable reason this feeling was familiar, and unfamiliar altogether. Though, I could not quite put my finger as to where or when I had felt like this before. And then, just like that, my mind put it together and I remembered the smell of memory. It was the memory of her, the memory that was she, her scent, Bella's.

My breathing became erratic and my nostrils flared as I allowed my sense of smell to overpower my other senses. With my lids still shut taut over my eyes, I searched frantically for the source that had brought her scented memory to my undivided attention. It was driving me insane!

My senses must be failing me, I reason. They were expecting me to believe that, if I were to open my eyes, she would be right in front of me… standing before me, her proximity too close for comfort.

I barely dared open my eyes, not knowing what I would find if I did. There was the possibility that I would snap at Bella for being so stubborn as to come searching for me. That is, if she was truly standing before me.

But what if she was not standing before me, would I be disappointed? Slowly, almost with cowardice, I opened my eyes.

My head bowed, as if in prayer, to where the scent seemed to source from. There, twisted and trapped on one of my shirt's buttons, was a single strand of Bella's brown locks.

Just as the single strand of hair was about to detangle itself and caught in the swirling torment of wind and rain I trapped it, yet again, within my fingertips, with a delicacy I never thought myself capable of and brought it close.

As I examined the offending lock, I inhaled and closed my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head, courtesy of the intoxicating, mouthwatering scent that emanated from the single damp lock of Bella's hair.

Thirst.

I drew up to a blank. Where had the familiar burning of thirst at the back of my throat gone? In truth, it was still lingering there, but why was I not feeling it as scorching as before?

What had changed?

Unlike then, I knew the answer to that question today. My love for her had changed me, it was as simple as that. Even before I had realized the extent of my feelings for Bella she was changing me for the better in every unexpected way.

Sure, the monster that wanted to sate its thirst by taking her life still lurked in the recesses every time she got too close. But now, I was able to put up a good fight for Bella and remove myself from the problem before the problem got out of hand.

This unrequited love came with a price, there was no arguing that. But the more I got acquainted with her scent the more I craved the torturous burn of my thirst for her.

It made me feel, in a way, alive. Allowed me to still see some semblance of the old me, the creature that used to struggle with bloodlust while being five, long feet away from her.

Now, one foot and I still struggled, but I could resist the temptation through the constant reminder of how much I will actually suffer if she was no longer part of the world I existed in. It would be something akin to undergoing the three days burn and puling through it, only to be caged into a life of cruel service under the hand of a crueler woman all over again. Only, I wouldn't be going through any of that physically, just mentally.

Even if sometimes I had to crack open a window to purify the air, I knew that little by little I was beginning to surpass my own expectations of how far I could stretch my limits. Every day presented a new challenge, now I had two urges to control. One, the scorching thirst and two, the desire to touch and kiss Bella in a way that only a lover had the privilege of doing.

The privilege Edward had thrown away and left behind in pieces, I though, scowling with jealousy. That's another thing, jealousy is an ugly emotion, and I've always thought and said so. And now I found myself submersing in it every time I thought of my brother and the ways he might have cause Bella any sort of pleasure I could only wish, dream, and hope to administer.

Again, I'm a downright masochist with no sense of self-preservation. I'd go as far as twisting my own hand at every turn of this crazy love I've so willingly stepped into, just to try and pick up the pieces left behind by that bastard.

Addictive, hungry, and intoxicating, that's what my love for Isabella is. And I just can't get enough, however frightening this knowledge might be, I can't stop this freight train. Even if I wanted to, and I don't, I don't think I could stop this growing feeling of fascination and wonder I stumble upon every time I allow myself to drink the sight of her in.

With another smile, I remember bringing Bella here for the first time and explaining to her the story behind the crater I had created on the earth. That's when I first realized I couldn't deny her anything if she so much as asked. Also, I found that she cared, truly cared for me.

Isabella had been so concerned, angry even, because I had been taking all the blame of that day upon myself. Point-blank, she sorted me out good and gave me a piece of her mind, telling me I was a damned fool for ever thinking that I was undeserving of her forgiveness when there was nothing to forgive. I took that as her forgiving me, by the way.

What an astoundingly stubborn woman. Smiling like a fool, I brushed a hand through my hair self-consciously and breathed in the day, wishing she were here with me instead of having to be alone. She had gone to see the mutt today.

Despite my dislike for the mongrel, I'm not about to be as controlling as some. Even when it unnerves me to know that if something were to happen to her in the dog's territory I couldn't do anything, I at least know that that same mongrel would give up his own life to keep Bella out of harms way. And that gives me some false sense of peace of mind.

Lately, I've been counting my favorite moments with Isabella as heartbeats. Because I can almost hear it, my deadened heart giving in to her unpolished charm every time she manages to amaze me without meaning to. Like the way she described why she loved my scars, the reminders of each live I had taken in order to remain the last one standing.

My own pride over their constant reminder came with their certain bittersweet memories. Bittersweet, that's so fitting. If I were to sum up my entire existence in one word, I would say it's been bittersweet. Even my love for Isabella can be described as such.

Sighing and with a heavy stimulus of remorse caging my mournful heart, I recall the afternoon Alice appeared before us in this very clearing and I lost my way, but found my love. A sacrifice that had to be made and paid, but I direly regretted. I could have handled everything differently, made a different choice, and protected Bella too.

What else will I have to lose to remain at her side?, I wondered.

Would I be capable of breaking Alice in order to fix Bella?

Yes. The answer came to mind as natural as my nature continued to test the lengths I would take to deny my true nature. Shaking my head and my thoughts aside, I glanced at my watch.

Two thirty, it read. Smiling, I set off running at a pace that, despite my trying to restrain myself, wouldn't fool anyone into thinking that I wasn't much too eager to see Bella. I mean, it wasn't fooling me.

My smile slightly faltered as I felt a sudden onslaught of unsettling emotions that gave me pause. It felt like the whole of Forks, Washington was in an uproar. Hiding in the shadows of the trees I watched as Charlie blazed by to La Push in his cruise, siren blaring.

Feeling slightly apprehensive I took a moment to take apart every emotion I was receiving. There were three very distinct emotions that kept repeating themselves, confusion, fear, and immense sadness, like that of someone mourning.

I inhaled shakily, ready to run the rest of the way home to make sure that Bella was safe and that what I feared to be the truth was nothing more than my imagination getting away with me. But before I could take another step, my phone vibrated in my jean pocket.

"Hello?" I answered at the second ring. "Alice, what's wrong?" Every thought I had about Alice not keeping my mandate to never contact me unless I contacted her first completely forgotten for the time being.

"Where were you?" She demanded, sobbing. "Where were you when she needed you?" For the first time in my existence, I felt my body quiver in fear as it's cold grip squeezed at my heart. "Bella's dead!" She pules.

My vision blackened. "Alice," I said slowly, "What are you talking about?" It couldn't be true… because if it was, that mongrel was dead for failing to do his duty, even if I had to take down the entire pack to get to him.

"She's dead," she whispered and the line went dead.

oOo

A/N: Some of you guys were so enthusiastic with your responses on the previous chapter that I felt compelled to write and more than inspired. Getting reviews really stimulates my muse and keeps it running, no joke. So, a penny for your thought?