oHello!

Ugh, exams...they hurt. If you're in them right now, I hope they're going better than mine. NCEA suddenly stopped being predictable. Damn.

I also hope all in Canterbury and enjoying the aftershocks :)

Thanks so much for all your reviews! Honestly, I find them so interesting to read. Poor Jacob! He would be so hurt!

But really, thanks so much - you have made me smile in the month of Hell!

Do hope you enjoy this one!

And please review!

The Last Time - Taylor Swift

Ombra mai Fu - Handel (think the version I listened to was sung by Fiona Campbell)

The Edge of Night - Howard Shore (because LOTR is awesome)

How Long Will I Love You - From About Time, which is so good that I have seen it in two different countries! Go and watch it - it has such a great message!

We didn't speak on the way back to the hotel, apart from a quick apology from Edward when his father called to plan some kind of meeting with him – I got the impression that Anthony Masen scheduled everything, including his son's life.

The traffic of midday Chicago beat against my ears, the sun warm on my face. Business people and tourists walked by, talking on their phone or taking photos. The huge skyscrapers towered up above me. And yet I didn't notice any of it. It was all Edward. Edward, his hands in his jacket pockets, his gaze set forward, walking beside me with his graceful stride, smelling like he always did – of deodorant and Edward. His arm occasionally brushed against mine as we walked down the busy street. I tried to not let myself react. Because there was a growing part of me that just wanted to step in front of him right now and tell him that he had to stay. That there was no way he could leave. That I would leave Jacob and be with him.

But that was hardly a thought-through idea. I couldn't just leave Jacob, after all he had done for me. And I couldn't just promise Edward I could be with him when I would hopefully still be dancing lead with Jacob every night. I didn't even know if that was what I wanted. I didn't even know if I could forgive him.

"I can't bear to see you with anyone but me."

The memory of his words sent another shiver up my spine. There was something so dangerously enticing in that.

My hand still clutched the photo of us.

"Thank you for lunch," I said as we reached the hotel lobby. "And for remembering my birthday."

Edward gave a one-sided smile, his gaze holding mine for a little longer than was necessary. I could see him trying to decipher what I was thinking. Hastily, I looked away, going to the elevator and pressing the button.

"I'll see you in class," Edward murmured, and made for the stairs.

The doors pinged open and I stepped in, finally alone. I slumped against the mirrored elevator wall, feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. What was I meant to do? How could I make this decision? How could I decide Edward's life for him?

"Hey," Alice said as I tiredly entered our room. She was packing her dance bag, already dressed in a navy blue short-sleeved leotard with white trim – kind of like a vintage sailor's uniform.

"How was the jelly bean thing?" I heard myself ask.

She gave me a smile, "Big and shiny. Where have you been?"

"Lunch with Edward." I picked at my nails and then abruptly decided to get ready, almost ripping my leotard as I yanked it out of my suitcase.

"Oh," Alice said simply. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I replied, busily pulling my tights on.

"Right," she said in that accepting way. I didn't deserve that from her. I didn't deserve any of Alice's kindness.

When Jasper knocked on the door for them to leave, I told her to go ahead. I left a few minutes later and went down to the conference room. Jacob was still there, dancing through his opening variation. The back and front of his t-shirt had turned darker with sweat. His eyes didn't see me as he leapt high into the air, beating his calves together and then landing back in arabesque. It was a glorious move. But, then, he was an amazing dancer. He went on, his back leg sweeping forward in another jump, his arms changing position, one in a curve above his head, the other out to the side. The muscles in his arms stood out as he moved, finding their position with such confidence.

But nothing had changed since this morning. He was still dancing as he had always done.

"Jacob," I said quietly. He finished his series of assemblés, ending with one foot pointed behind him, his arm stretched out in front of him. He was a beautiful statue.

The music finished and he dropped his arm and went to get water from his bag. "Have fun with Edward?" he asked me sarcastically, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I'm going to go to class with the rest of the company," I told him, ignoring how he turned his back to me. "And I think you should too."

"I'm rehearsing."

"It's not going to make a difference. You know that, Jacob." I folded my arms over my chest, "We need to turn up to class so they don't forget us and just replace us there and then." I didn't bother to mention that Carlisle might not even have the option of Edward by the end of the night.

"We haven't being going to class for the past ten classes."

I gave an exasperated sigh and walked up to where he stood, "Well maybe that's part of the issue."

Jacob turned around, finally looking at me with those brown eyes. It was like I was seeing them for the first time. I saw the stubbornness there – the very stubbornness Edward had described. But I also saw a weariness which I had never noticed before. Maybe Edward thought that Jacob could live off rehearsing and technique and coffee, but I saw now that that wasn't possible. He was wearing himself out. Helen's attack on us had drained us both, but this was something different – like he had been pushing for years and years to just be that much closer to perfect and still not be anywhere. He was still losing.

"You can change," I whispered, sympathy now seeping into my words. "You don't have to keep going on like this."

Jacob didn't reply. He wasn't going to acknowledge anything I said. So I picked up my bag and left.

\*\*/*/

The Royals were all sitting at the back of the stage when I arrived at the Civic Opera House. The curtains were shut, not allowing me to see the thousands of seats, but the stage itself was massive, anyway, spanning a huge distance out either side, with the lights high above. How would I even know which wing to come out of?

"Bella!" Bridget called, waving her hand as I made my way through the other dancers towards them, carefully not looking to where Edward sat with Alice and Jasper. The Royals were lounging in a circle, all in their scarlet leotards and t-shirts.

Adela looked at me confusedly, "What are you doing here?"

"Figured I'd take class for once," I said.

Robbie laughed, "First warm up, now this? You're losing you're exclusivity!"

I smiled, though it didn't quite feel right, "Well, I haven't really seen any of you since – "

"Since before NFSI started?" Danny finished for me, though that wasn't quite how I was going to put it.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, unzipping my pointe shoe bag. I felt like I was going to be apologising to lots of people over the next few days. I looked up, frowning, "Where's Gerry?" Usually there would have been some kind of witty and rude comment on my absences by now.

Everyone looked away awkwardly, though Danny gave it away by her glance at Seth. I was about to ask when Carlisle came on, clapping his hands. "Alright! Everyone to the barre, s'il vous plait."

"Seth had a huge spaz at Gerry last night," Bridget whispered in my ear as we tried to find a spot at the barre. "About the whole crush thing."

"He seemed okay this morning," I said, but then he had looked rather tired…

"Seth can be a serious ass sometimes," Bridget muttered. We found a place halfway down the middle barre. Across from us, near the front, Edward was performing tendus – pointing his toes to the front and then sweeping back in and then the side and back, all with practised agility. Through his white t-shirt, I could see the muscles in his back bunch and then release as his left arm glided from first position to second.

"Enough chatter!" Carlisle called. He was standing at the edge of the stage in a white shirt and formal trousers. The man definitely had style. "Let us begin."

We began with plies, the whole company gracefully lowering down, one hand on the barre, the other flowing from the side to overhead as we reached our lowest points. An old piano had been wheeled onstage and one of the repetiteurs of the NFSI was playing. Edward and I rose at the same exact moment, as the music reached cadence point. "Into a back bend!" Carlisle called, striding between the rows. I arched my back until I was staring up at the rows and rows of stage lights, all chained and bolted to a massive network of metal scaffolding. I could feel everything stretch as I breathed – the satisfying pull of my body.

We went on, into tendues and releves, and then frappes and battements, all building up in movement and speed. For the first time in a long time, I considered just how much I had improved.

As a First Year at Force, I had struggled through everything. I could hardly keep up with people three years younger than me. My turn out was bad, my endurance was awful. All those rehearsals with Carlisle and Edward, when I could not keep up – when I just got completely lost and breathless. Now, I could rehearse that same scene five times and still go for a sixth, regardless of how much my legs might ache. I had become stronger and tougher – more flexible, more consistent, more agile. I knew my body from head to the bruised, blistered tips of my toes.

And it was all thanks to Jacob. My first two weeks at Aro's were now a distant memory. The hurt from Edward's betrayal had still been so raw that everything seemed hopeless, including my dancing. Until Jacob had come in on his motorbike, in that ridiculous stunt through the corridors, and noticed me. He had picked me up and dusted me off when I was thinking of leaving ballet.

It was Jacob who had made me want to stay. Who had made me want to fight. And then he had taught me everything he knew. He had invested so much in me. He had cared about me. He had believed in me when no one else did. Even Edward, before things had ended, had not had the faith Jacob had in me. He hadn't taken the time to help me like Jacob had.

Jacob had been my saviour. He had made me what I was, even if now I wanted to go back.

"Bella, they're putting the barres away," Bridget told me. I realized I'd completely zoned out – barre was over.

"Right," I said and followed her to the back of the stage.

Carlisle clapped his hands to get everyone's attention again, "Okay, first combination, ladies and gentlemen! We are still seeing issues with the peasant dances – the corps parts are still getting a little butchered, oui?"

Everyone around me laughed. I had clearly missed some kind of an in joke…

"So," Carlisle continued. "We're going to just go over those jumps individually and then work up to the series."

We began with groups of five crossing the stage, executing small jumps and then gradually getting to the bigger ones. I couldn't help but watch Edward as he stepped up between Jasper and Emmett to perform a set of grande jetes – great leaps from one corner of the stage to the other.

"Alright, boys," Carlisle said, folding his arms. "Let's see it."

Edward's eyes focused on the far corner, his chest rising as he took a breath and then stepped onto his right foot, bent his knee and took off, his legs almost at one-eighty as he cut through the air. It took my breath away. There was so much power in his body – so much confidence, just like Jacob. But there was something else about Edward, aside from his emotions, that set him apart from Jacob. That set him apart from all of us. He had a kind of ease with his body. As if dancing was just something he naturally did. Every movement was intense and powerful and yet it looked truly effortless. Jacob and I – we were both so obsessed with fixing what was wrong that dancing never exactly felt right. But even without that obsession, no one danced like Edward. No one looked as home in the middle of the most difficult move as Edward.

I watched as he finished his last jete with a fouette, perfectly turning on the ball of his foot, one leg back. When Jasper and Emmett and the other two finished abruptly, Edward lowered his leg back down with grace, his outstretched hand lingering a little before it fell to his side. His eyes finally lost that intense focus and turned light as he smiled at something Emmett was saying.

"Ugh, my calf is killing me," Danny muttered from beside me, shaking out her leg.

I gave her an absent minded smile and we set off on our turn of the jetes.

The class went on, and the more I watched Edward, the more I began to appreciate just how different he was to the others. He had everything. The technique and precision and ease and always, always that link to the music. He was perfect.

It reminded me of something Jasper had said last night; "I wonder why he bothers going to Force. In Russia, he would already be a soloist with the Bolshoi, at least, not still hanging around with us students."

He was right. Edward was too good for everyone here. He was on a different level from all of us. No wonder he taught so much at Force and then here – there was nothing else for him to learn from ordinary classes or rehearsals. I watched as he chatted to two of the younger USB guys between combinations, explaining something or other to them, and then demonstrated. They looked at him like he was a god.

The same way I used to look at him, I remembered, thinking back to my first few days at Force, when the whole school had been in an uproar because I had danced with the great Edward Masen. I remembered Angela and Violet telling me about him with such reverence. I guessed that I had forgotten that. After that very first dance, he had become something more personal and close than an all-powerful god. And then, for a while, Edward had been my boyfriend. And then he was my enemy. And now…now I seemed to have come full circle, albeit with a little more understanding.

Edward may have made mistakes – lots of mistakes, in fact; everything from ignoring me because I made him feel out of control to leaving Madame Wright to take that fateful class when Angela fell to kissing Tanya on that one, horrific night – but those mistakes had clouded my vision of who Edward really was. He was one of the World's best ballet dancers. He should have been on the stage of La Scala or the Bolshoi or the Palais Garnier. Or Covent Garden.

But it was more than 'should'. Edward had to go. He could not let me get in the way of his career.

And perhaps that was the final straw for me. The final realization that I was not worth ruining Edward's career over. Edward may have made mistakes, but he never stood by them for long. He didn't justify them. But me? Since coming to Aro's, I had completely abandoned my injured and alone best friend, I had threatened to tell Gerry's very personal secret to everyone, I had said the cruellest, most horrible thing to Alice. I had spurned all the people who had shown me such warmth and loss on that final night at Force – Alice and Jasper and Emmett and even Rosalie, who had all stood out in the freezing cold and blessed me on my way. I had even disputed with Carlisle – perhaps one of the greatest dancers and men of all time. I had had so much respect for him at one point, and he had respected me. He had supported me through so much only to have me ignore his advice and ruin his ballet. And even amongst the Royals, I had thought myself too high above them to go to class or spend time with them or even help Gerry.

I had been a good person, once. Back at Force. But I was not that Bella Swan anymore, regardless of what Edward might have said earlier.

And I knew, deep, deep down, that I could not dance like I used to, either. There would always be a part of me that would be tainted by my experiences at Aro's and what had happened with Edward. This morning I had managed to dredge up as much of my old dancing as possible. It was there, undeniably, but it wasn't like it once had been. It could never be so carefree again. So innocent. The girl who found solace in Wuthering Heights and followed her heart into the most amazing, painful places…that just wasn't the person I was anymore.

Even if I did leave Jacob – even if, in some bizarre world, Edward and I got Romeo and Juliet, it would not be what Edward wanted. Oh, I could dance the desperation and pain of that last death scene with him. I could hold his hand on the long bus journeys and become friends with everyone again. I could kiss him – God, I could kiss Edward in a blink if it was possible. But it would not be how he remembered.

He was willing to stay in the US to be with that Bella. This was such an important opportunity – he could not give it up for anything less than her.

Class finished without warning – I realized I hadn't even done half the combinations because I'd been staring into space, thinking.

I sought out Edward. He was sitting with Jasper and Emmett, all of them taking off their shoes. Edward pushed a hand through his hair, looking around. For me, I guessed. As soon as he found my gaze, I looked away. I didn't want him to read me the way he always did.

When I finally looked back, Carlisle was talking to him, ushering him out through the wing. Perhaps he was demanding why the contract wasn't signed yet – that wouldn't surprise me.

Carlisle and Edward disappeared, and it was then that it hit me.

Suddenly, I had to get out. I had to leave. I left my pointe shoes on, grabbed my sweater and charged out through one of the wings, quickly finding my way into the backstage area. I saw the door to the stairs first, and went straight up. I needed air. I needed space.

Twenty flights later, I burst out onto the roof of the Civic to a huge gust of wind.

I went straight to the railing, letting it support me as I gasped for breath. The Civic building was shaped like a throne and I was only on the roof the seat – the three other sides towered up behind me, with more skyscrapers on the other side of the river, their polished glass windows glinting in the sunlight. Far below me, the Chicago river flowed gently by, with boats and tourist barges moving along through the blue water. Serenity when my mind was in a storm.

"I can't do this," I whispered to myself.

Oh, there were so many reasons for him to go and hardly any reasons for him to stay, but I couldn't bear for Edward to leave. My heart ached with unspeakable pain – he couldn't leave. I couldn't bear to be without him. Without Edward.

Ever since I had seen him dance on that first night at Force, my life had been inexplicably changed. Every emotion had felt sharper, every action more purposeful. Every day, he was there in my mind. Everything I had done was linked to him in some way. From my running on stage at the Review to my endless, ruthless rehearsals with Jacob – it had all been because Edward instilled something in me that made me want to do more than just be.

He was my inspiration. In everything.

How could I let him leave? I would never be as impassioned again. I would never as driven or as angry or as happy. He gave me so much. His face, his eyes, his words, his dancing…the knowledge that he was somewhere near. Whether he hated me or cared for me or thought I was a horrible person. Whether I thought the same of him – it didn't matter. So long as he was near. So long as there was the knowledge that I would see him again.

If he went to London, he would be gone forever. We would not cross paths again for many years, if at all.

But if he went to London, he would get the career he deserved. He would be free of me, when all I could give him was the memory of what I once was and the pain of seeing me with Jacob. Because I couldn't leave Jacob, either.

I put my head in my hands, feeling a weight so heavy on me, like a blanket of lead.

"Bella?" I didn't turn to the sound of Alice's voice. I heard her walk up beside me. She leaned against the railing, looking out across the city. "You okay?"

I absentmindedly pulled on the cuffs of my sweater, hiding my hands in the warmth of the fabric, even though it wasn't cold.

I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath so that the pain didn't stop me from speaking, "Did Edward tell you what he wanted to talk to me about?"

She shook her head, "I know it's private – you don't have to tell me."

I watched a little sailing boat go past, the crew looking moving around the deck to lower the mast before the bridge. I folded my arms tight against my body, "If the only way of being happy was by hurting two people you cared about, would you do it?"

Alice thought for a moment, squinting the afternoon sun. "It would depend," she said eventually. "If the hurt was temporary and the happiness was permanent then maybe I would…" she sighed, picking at the remnants of her red nails. "But I don't think it works like that. When you hurt people you care about, you just end up hurting yourself. If I knew I had brought those two people pain at my own benefit then I don't think I really would feel happy."

"Just mean," I murmured.

She nodded, "Which is hardly a cause for happiness." She looked at me, the wind flicking her fringe across her face, "But choices don't have to come down to that, Bella. Surely, there must be other options?"

I shook my head, a tear slipping down my cheek, "Not for this."

I quickly dashed it away. I wouldn't cry. I had cried too much.

"I have to find Edward," I whispered. Alice gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. "Thank you for your advice."

"Good luck," she replied.

When I got down to the theatre, the stage crew were rehearsing their scene changes and not many of the dancers were left. "Do you know where Edward is?" I asked one of the USB dancers, who was carrying around her headdress for the ballroom scene.

"Think he was with Carlisle, last," she said, looking at me kind of cautiously. "In the foyer."

I tried to give her a grateful smile, "Thanks."

I hardly looked beyond the vibrant red carpets of the theatre as I walked up the aisle to the exit. How was I meant to put it? God, one look in my eyes and he would know. He read me too well not to.

The foyer was beautiful – a long room of magnificent square columns and warm golden lights.

The ticket desk was empty and no one seemed to be around. But then I heard French coming from behind one of the columns.

"Ma cherie, ne souriez pas. Il ira bien, j'en suis sûr." I followed Carlisle's voice around. He was sitting on one of the benches by the door, his phone to his ear, his face in his hand, "Oui, je sais mais il aussi..." I cleared my throat, feeling rude. He looked up at me, surprised, "Un moment, Esme. C'est Bella." He left his phone on the bench and stood up.

"I – " this suddenly felt incredibly awkward. I swallowed and said, "I was wondering where Edward was? I need to – "

"He's at the hospital," Carlisle said quietly.

"What?" I breathed.

He sighed, putting a hand on his hip, "Monsieur Masen has had an accident. A car crash. Edward went straight there."

"Which hospital?" I demanded. "Why is he alone? He shouldn't be alone! You have to tell me – "

"Bella!" Carlisle said, putting his hands on my shoulders. He fixed me with his gaze, "He is at North-western Memorial. It's not far."

I nodded quickly and went out onto the busy street.

I have two more exams to go and then I'm off to freezing cold England the week after but I'm sure there will be one, probably two, chapters up before then!

I hope you enjoyed enough to review...or are enraged or bored enough to review...either way! :) I'd love to hear your opinions!

Also, if you want to see the magic of ballet in reality, youtube youth at risk ballet hoo - it's Romeo and Juliet but with disadvantaged, troubled teens performing most of the roles amazingly well!

Thanks for reading! Cheers :)