As Beau drifted, he dreamed.
Where he floated, under the dark water, he heard the happiest sound his mind could conjure up. It was beautiful, uplifting, and ghastly. It was another snarl; a deeper, wilder roar that rang with fury.
Beau felt himself almost surface as a sharp pain slashed his hand. But it wasn't far enough; he couldn't muster enough strength to open his eyes. By then he knew he was dead. Because through the heavy water, he heard the sound of an angel calling his name, beckoning him to the only heaven he wanted.
"Oh no, Beau, no!" The angel's voice cried in horror.
Behind that longed-for sound was another noise—an awful tumult that his mind instinctively shied away from. A vicious bass growling, a shocking snapping sound, and a high keening, suddenly breaking off . . . he tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead. The angel was begging him now.
"Beau, please! Beau, listen to me, please, please, Beau, please!"
Yes, Beau wanted to say. He wanted to say anything. But his lips wouldn't move.
"Carlisle!" the angel's voice broke. "Beau, Beau, no, oh please, no, no!"
He broke into tearless sobs. It was wrong for him to weep. Beau tried to find him, to comfort the poor, frightened creature, but the water was pressing on him, and he couldn't breathe. There was a point of pressure against his head. It hurt. Then, as that pain broke through the darkness to him, other pains came with it, each one stronger than the last. Beau cried out, gasping, as he finally broke through the surface of the dark water.
"Beau!" the angel cried.
"He's lost some blood, but the head wound isn't deep," said a calm voice nearby. "Watch out for his leg, it's broken."
A howl of rage strangled the angel's lips.
Beau felt a sharp stab in his side. This couldn't be heaven—there was too much pain for that.
"Some ribs, too, I think."
But the sharp pains were fading in favor of a new one. This pain was scalding his hand so strongly it overshadowed all the others.
Someone was burning him.
"Edward." His voice was heavy and the name came out garbled. He couldn't understand it himself.
"Beau, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me, Beau? I love you."
"Edward," Beau tried again. His voice was a little clearer this time.
"Yes, I'm here."
"It hurts," he whimpered.
"I know, Beau, I know . . . can't you do anything?"
"My bag, please . . . hold your breath, Alice, it will help," Carlisle promised.
He groaned. "Alice?"
"She's here, she knew where to find you."
"My hand hurts," Beau insisted, almost angry that none of them seemed to understand this fact.
"I know, Beau. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop—"
"My hand is burning!" Beau screamed. Why couldn't they see the fire and put it out?
"Beau?"
He was thrashing now. The pain seized him as he tried to pat it out the way they do on television. But nothing was working. It was burning his hand clean off.
"The fire! Please, someone stop the fire!"
"Carlisle—his hand!"
Edward caught his breath in horror; the doctor's voice was appalled. "He bit him."
"So this is how it happens." It was Alice's voice, close to Beau's ear. Cool fingers brushed at the wetness in his eyes. "Edward, you have to do it."
"No!" Edward bellowed. It wasn't clear which prospect upset him more.
"Alice," Beau moaned.
"There may be a chance," Carlisle said quickly. "See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean."
"Will that work?" Alice's voice was strained.
"I don't know. But we have to hurry."
The venom, Beau thought. The superfluous weapon Alice told him about in Vancouver. The steady, slow, terrible torture that began the vampiric transformation. It was in his blood now. Terror began to claw through his chest.
"Carlisle, I . . . " Edward hesitated, agonized. "I don't know if I can do that."
"It's your decision, Edward, either way. I can't help you. I have to get this bleeding stopped here if you're going to be taking blood from his hand."
Beau writhed in the grip of the fiery torture. The movement set off alarm bells in his leg and the pain flared to a sickening level. Beau didn't know how much more of it he could take.
"Edward, please help me! Please, I trust you!"
Beau forced his eyes open, desperate to see the angel's face, and found it staring down at him. It was a mask twisted with pain and indecision.
"Alice, get me something to brace his leg! Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late."
The doubt bled out of Edward's eyes. A blazing determination burned there as his jaw tightened with effort. He bent over Beau's hand and pressed his cold lips to the skin.
At first the pain was worse. He screamed and thrashed in the icy grip. Alice and Carlisle tried to soothe him as they held him down.
His thoughts cut back to that dreadful night in the locker room.
Beau knew he was in for it after the game. Coach Turner was adamant about sticking to the plan. He had fumbled the first few pitches, began to improvise, and then everything went to shit.
They usually met in his office, but the email had ordered him to go to the locker room, which usually meant a few hours parked in front of the TV while Turner pointed out his exact mistakes on screen.
It only took one step through the door to know he had made a terrible mistake. A handful of the varsity team stood there waiting, blocking every alternate exit. Even a nervous freshman was there, looking guilty at what he was about to do, but too frightened of the older boys to leave.
Beau didn't try to run like he had with James. He fought them for a little while, throwing a few punches of his own, but there were too many of them. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone, curling up on the floor under the blows.
The anger, humiliation, horror . . . none of that felt as terrible as this venomous fire scourging his hand. It was eating him alive.
Then, slowly, his writhing calmed. His hand went curiously numb. The fire had narrowed into an ever-shrinking point that grew smaller by the second. Beau felt his consciousness slipping as the pain subsided. He was afraid to fall into those black waters again. He was sure he would lose Edward in them, and be lost.
"Edward . . . "
"He's right here, Beau."
"Stay, Edward, stay with me . . . " He tried to make his plea a command, but it sounded unsteady.
"I will," Edward promised, his voice strained, but triumphant.
Beau sighed contentedly. The fire had burnt itself out. The other pains he felt were dulled by a sleepiness seeping through his body.
"Is it all out?"
"His blood tastes clean," Edward said quietly. "I can taste the morphine."
"Beau?" Carlisle asked.
"Mmm?"
"Is the fire gone?"
"Yes," he sighed. "Thank you, Edward."
"I love you."
"I know," Beau answered. He was so tired. Then he heard his favorite sound in the world: Edward's quiet laugh, weak with relief.
"Beau?"
Beau frowned; he wanted to sleep, and all the questions were getting in the way. "What?"
"Where is your father?"
"Safe," he sighed. "James tricked me, Edward. He watched our home videos."
The outrage in his voice was pitifully frail. But that reminded him of something important.
"Alice, the camera—he knew you, Alice, he knew where you came from." Beau meant to speak urgently, but his voice was more feeble than ever. He remembered then that he destroyed the evidence. He had destroyed the only clue to Alice's past. Guiltily, he reached for something else in the haze in his brain, something else that was bothering him.
"I smell gasoline."
"It's time to move him," Carlisle said.
"No, I want to sleep."
"You can sleep, sweetheart, I'll carry you."
And then he was in Edward's arms, cradled against his chest—floating, all the pain gone.
"Sleep now, Beau," were the last words he heard.
When Beau opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar, white room. He was propped up on a hard, uneven bed—a bed with rails. A continuous beeping noise sounded somewhere close by. He hoped this meant he was alive. Death shouldn't be this uncomfortable.
There was something taped across his face. He tried to rip it off, but a pair of cool hands stopped him. "No, you don't."
"Edward?" Beau turned his head to find that exquisite face just inches away. He realized again that he was alive, this time with gratitude and elation, because it meant he could keep company with him. "Oh, Edward, I'm sorry!"
"Sssh, everything's all right now."
"What happened?" His mind rebelled when Beau tried to recall the events that brought him here. They hovered on the edge of his consciousness, fuzzy and out of focus.
"I was almost too late. I could have been too late," Edward whispered. His voice was full of torment.
"I was so stupid, Edward," he murmured as the memories became clearer. "I thought he had my dad."
"He tricked us all."
"I need to call Charlie and my mom."
"Alice called them. Renée is here—well, here in the hospital. They both are. Your mother is getting something to eat right now."
"She's here in Forks?" Beau tried to sit up, but his head spun, and Edward pushed him gently back onto the pillows.
"Actually, we're in Olympia. She'll be back soon," he promised. "And you need to stay still."
"But what did you tell her?" Beau asked, panicked, shifting uncomfortably against the lumpy pillows. He had no interest in being soothed. His mother was here and he was recovering from a vampire attack. "Why did you tell her I'm here?"
"A car accident," he paused. "With a truck that old, you have to admit, it could happen. You seem to have unusually bad luck with car accidents, so it was the perfect cover."
"No," Beau moaned. That truck was his first love in Forks, at least before he met Edward. "Well, how bad am I?"
"You have a broken nose, broken leg, four broken ribs, some cracks in your skull, bruises covering every inch of your skin, and you've lost a lot of blood. They gave you a few transfusions. I didn't like it—it made you smell all wrong for a while."
"That must have been a nice change for you."
"No," Edward shook his head. "I like how you smell."
"How did you do it?" Beau knew Edward understood what he meant.
"I'm not sure." Edward looked away, lifting Beau's gauze-wrapped hand and holding it in both of his, careful not to disrupt any wires. His own left shoulder in a sling. "It was impossible . . . to stop. Impossible. But I did. I must love you."
"Do I taste as good as I smell?" Beau grinned. It hurt his face.
Edward's eyes were ruby red. "Even better."
"I'm sorry."
Those same red eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Of all the things to apologize for."
"What should I apologize for?"
The reply was sharp. "For very nearly taking yourself away from me forever."
"I'm sorry," Beau said, chastened.
"I know why you did it. It was still irrational, of course. You should have waited for me. You should have told me."
Beau remembered the letter and flushed. "You wouldn't have let me go."
"No," he agreed grimly. "I wouldn't."
More unpleasant memories surfaced. Beau shuddered and winced at the responding ripple of pain.
"Beau, what's wrong?"
"What happened to James?"
"After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him." There was a fierce note of regret in his voice.
Beau was confused. "I didn't see them there."
"They had to leave the room . . . there was a lot of blood."
"But you stayed."
"Yes, I stayed."
"And Alice, and Carlisle," Beau said in wonder. The night continued to sharpen in his mind.
"They love you, too, you know."
"Did Alice . . . " He remembered the camera shattering under the force of his swing. "Did you tell Alice?"
Edward nodded. "Yes."
"She was always in the dark, that's why he didn't remember."
"I know. She understands now." His voice was even, but his face as black with fury.
Beau tried to touch him, but something stopped him. An IV line pulled at his hand. "Ugh."
"What is it?"
"Needles," Beau explained. He concentrated on breathing deeply despite the ache between his ribs.
"Afraid of a needle," Edward muttered under his breath. "Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing him to death, sure, no problem, he runs off to meet him. An IV, on the other hand . . . "
Beau rolled his own eyes. He was pleased to discover this reaction was pain-free. "So, why are you here?"
Edward stared at him, confused, then hurt, by the words. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No!" he protested, horrified by the thought. "No, I meant, why does my mother think you're here? I need to have my story straight before she gets back."
"Oh. Well, Carlisle, Alice, and I drove after you, trying to convince you to come back to Forks." His wide eyes were so earnest and sincere that Beau almost believed it himself. "You agreed to come back with me, so we decided to drive back together, until another car struck us on the driver's side at an intersection. Hit and run. Hence, my sling—I was in the passenger seat."
"There are a few flaws with that story. Like Big Red isn't even here."
"Not really," he said. "We towed back from Phoenix. Rosalie had a little too much fun fabricating evidence for the story."
"I'm sure she did," Beau grumbled. He pictured her taking a golf club to his poor, innocent truck and winced.
"It's all been taken care of very convincingly," Edward promised, stroking his cheek with the lightest of touches. "You have nothing to worry about. Your only job now is to heal."
Beau wasn't so lost to the soreness or the fog of medication that he didn't respond to his touch. The beeping of the monitor jumped around erratically. Now Edward wasn't the only one who could hear Beau's heart misbehave.
"That's going to be embarrassing."
"Hmm, I wonder . . . "
Edward leaned in slowly. The beeping accelerated wildly before their lips even touched. But when they did, with the gentlest of pressure, the beeping stopped altogether. He pulled back abruptly, the anxious expression turning to relief as the monitor reported the restarting of Beau's heart.
"It seems that I'm going to have to be even more careful with you than usual."
"I was not finished kissing you," Beau complained. "Don't make me come over there."
Edward grinned, bending to kiss him again, pulling away when the monitor went wild.
"I think I hear your mother."
"Don't leave me," Beau cried out, an irrational surge of panic flooding through him. He couldn't let him go—Edward might disappear again.
"I won't," Edward promised. "I'll take a nap."
Beau watched him move to a recliner at the foot of the bed. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and then became perfectly still.
"Don't forget to breathe," Beau whispered sarcastically.
He could hear Renée now. She was talking to someone in the hallway, maybe a nurse, and sounded tired. Upset. Beau knew how difficult it was for her to be back at his bedside again. Beau wanted to jump up and run to her, to calm her, and promise that everything was fine. But he wasn't in any sort of shape for jumping, so he waited impatiently.
The door opened a crack, and a pair of blue eyes peeked through.
"Mom!"
His mother took in Edward's still form on the recliner, and tiptoed to the head of the bed. "He never leaves, does he?"
"Mom, I'm so glad to see you!"
Renée bent down to hug him gently. He felt warm tears on his face, but he wasn't sure who they belonged to.
"Beau, I was so upset!"
"I'm sorry, Mom. But everything's fine now, it's okay."
"I'm just glad to finally see your eyes open," his mother said, smoothing a curl back from his forehead.
"How long have they been closed?"
"It's Friday, hon, you've been out for a while."
"Friday?" Beau was shocked. He tried to remember what day it had been when . . . but he didn't want to think about that.
"They had to keep you sedated for awhile, honey—you've got a lot of injuries."
Did he ever; Beau could feel them now.
"You're lucky Dr. Cullen was in the city. He's such a nice man . . . very young, though. And he looks more like a model than a doctor . . . "
"You met Carlisle?"
"And Edward's sister, Alice. She's a lovely girl."
"She is," Beau agreed wholeheartedly.
Renée glanced over her shoulder at Edward. "You didn't tell me you had such good friends in Forks."
Beau cringed, then moaned. His nose was definitely broken.
"What hurts?" his mother demanded anxiously. Edward's eyes flashed to his face.
"It's fine," Beau assured them. "I just have to remember not to move."
He took advantage of her momentary distraction to keep the subject from returning to his less-than-candid behavior. "Where's Phil?"
"Still in Florida—oh, Beau! You'll never guess! Just when we were about to leave, the best news!"
"Phil got signed?"
"Yes! The Suns, can you believe it?"
"That's great, Mom," Beau said enthusiastically as he could manage. He had no idea what that meant.
"And you'll like Jacksonville so much," she gushed. "I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville! It's always sunny, and the humidity really isn't that bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a porch just like in an old movie, and this huge oak tree, and it's just a few minutes from the ocean, and you'll have your own bathroom—"
"Wait, Mom," Beau interrupted her. Edward still had his eyes closed, but he was too tense to pass as asleep. "What are you talking about? I'm not going to Florida. I live in Forks."
"But you don't have to anymore, silly. Phil will be able to be around so much more now . . . we've talked about it a lot, and what I'm going to do is trade off on the away games, half the time with you, half the time with him."
"Mom." Beau hesitated, wondering how best to be diplomatic about this. "I want to live in Forks. I'm already settled in at school, and I have friends, and Charlie needs me. He's just all alone up there, and he can't cook at all."
"You want to stay in Forks?" The idea was inconceivable to his mother; it was only intended to be a temporary thing. Then her eyes flickered back to Edward. "I understand you'd be adverse to Phoenix, but why Forks?"
"I told you—school, Charlie—ouch!" He'd shrugged. Not a good idea.
"Beau, honey, you hate Forks."
"It's not so bad."
She frowned, her eyes flickering between him and Edward, this time very deliberately. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is it this boy?"
"He's part of it," Beau admitted, knowing her keen eyes would see through a lie. "Have you had a chance to talk with Edward?"
"Yes, and I want to talk to you about that."
"What about?" he asked.
"I think that boy is in love with you."
"I think so, too," Beau confessed, his face reddening.
"And how do you feel about him?" The curiosity was obvious in her voice.
Beau sighed and looked away. As much as he loved his mother, this was not a conversation he wanted to have with her now, covered in plaster and wires. He decided on a normal-teenager-with-a-boyfriend response. "Well . . . I'm pretty crazy about him."
"Well, he seems very nice, and my goodness, he's incredibly good-looking, but you're so young, Beau . . . "
Beau raised his eyebrows. It was the first time since he was eight that she'd come close to sounding like a parental authority. This needed a delicate response.
"I know that, Mom. Don't worry about it. It's just a crush."
"That's right," she agreed, easily pleased. Then she sighed and glanced guiltily over her shoulder at the big, round clock on the wall.
"Do you need to go?"
She bit her lip. "Phil's supposed to call in a little while . . . I didn't know you were going to wake up . . . "
"No problem, Mom. I won't be alone."
"I'll be back soon. I've been sleeping here, you know." She was proud of herself.
"Oh, Mom, you don't have to do that! I'll never notice." The swirl of painkillers was making it hard to concentrate.
"I was too nervous." Her expression was sheepish. "There's been some crime in the area."
"Crime?"
"Someone broke into your school and burned down the gym! Between that and the hit-and-run . . ."
Beau shivered, and winced. "Wow."
"I can stay, baby, if you need me."
"No, Mom, I'll be fine. Edward will be with me."
That might have been the reason she wanted to stay. "I'll be back tonight."
It was a warning as much as a promise, and she glanced at Edward again as she said it.
"I love you, Mom. And hey, if Dad's around, can you send him in?"
"Of course. I love you, too, Beau. Try to be more careful when you drive, honey, I don't want to lose you."
Edward's eyes stayed closed, but a wide grin flashed across his face. A nurse came bustling in then to check Beau's vitals. Renée kissed his forehead, patted his gauze-wrapped hand, and left.
The nurse studied the paper readout on the heart monitor. "Are you feeling anxious, honey? Your heart rate got a little high there."
"I'm fine," Beau assured her.
"I'll tell your RN that you're awake. She'll be in to see you in a minute."
Edward's eyes flashed open when she left. But before he could move, Charlie was coming through the door, and the eyes closed again.
"Dad!"
"Beau," Charlie breathed, hurrying to his side. He moved to touch him, paused, then sank into another chair beside the bed. He had a five o'clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes. Beau felt fresh tears brewing at the sight of Charlie safe and sound.
"Dad," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Charlie was already shaking his head. "No, Beau. Forget about it. It's behind us."
"No!" Beau blurted out as he tried to sit up. Then he moaned and sank back against the pillows. Both Charlie and Edward were staring at him anxiously.
"Dad, please, let me apologize. I owe you an explanation."
Charlie sighed, carefully took his gauze-wrapped hand, and waited.
"I didn't mean any of it," Beau told him. "I knew you wouldn't let me go, so I had to hurt you. I'm sorry about that, and I'm sorry for leaving. I won't do anything like that again."
His father looked uncomfortable. "Well . . . thank you. It did hurt me. But I forgive you."
"Don't forgive me yet, Dad. Ground me or something, I deserve it."
"You're already grounded here," Charlie pointed out, a smile quirking on his lips. "You'll be in this bed for about the same amount of time as your sentence."
"Time served," Beau muttered, and they both laughed. It was nice to laugh with his dad again, even if it hurt to do it.
"Will you tell me, Beau? Next time I say or do something to upset you . . . just don't run off again."
"You've been wonderful, Dad," Beau assured him, squeezing his hand with all his strength. "I'm not leaving Forks anytime soon."
That appeared to mollify him. "Good. I'm just going to step out and call Billy—he's been very worried about you."
"Tell Jacob I say hello, and that I'll need a mechanic soon."
"I'm going to find that driver," Charlie promised. "When I do, I'm taking him to court."
Edward was at his side as soon as the door closed. Beau was nearly bursting with questions.
"You burned down the gym?"
He smiled, unrepentant, reaching to stroke Beau's cheek. "Now it's gone forever, and those bad memories with it. Dust."
"How was your nap?"
"Interesting." His eyes narrowed.
"What?"
Edward looked away when he answered. "I'm surprised. I thought Florida . . . and your mother . . . well, I thought that's what you would want."
"But you'd be stuck inside all day in Florida. You'd only be able to come out at night, just like a real vampire."
Edward was grave. "I would stay in Forks, Beau. Or somewhere like it. Someplace where I couldn't hurt you anymore."
It didn't sink in at first. Beau continued to stare at him blankly as the words, one by one, clicked into place like an awful puzzle. He was barely conscious of the monitor as his breathing escalated to hyperventilation. His ribs ached in protest.
Edward didn't say anything; he watched as the pain that had nothing to do with broken bones, pain that was infinitely worse, threatened to crush Beau.
And then another nurse walked purposefully into the room. Edward sat still as stone as she took in Beau's state with a practiced eye.
"Time for more pain meds, sweetheart?" she asked kindly, tapping the IV feed.
"No, no," Beau mumbled, trying to keep the agony out of his voice. "I don't need anything."
"No need to be brave, honey. It's better if you don't get too stressed out; you need rest."
Beau shook his head until she sighed. "Okay. Hit the call button when you're ready."
The nurse gave Edward a stern look before she left. Once she was gone, his cool hands went to Beau's face, which was twisted in agony.
"Ssh, Beau, calm down."
"If you want to go," he forced out. "Then go ahead. But I'm begging you not to. Please don't go."
"I won't," Edward promised. "Now relax before I call the nurse back to sedate you."
His heart refused to slow. This made Edward even more anxious. His cool hand cradled Beau's face softly.
"Beau, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here as long as you need me."
"Do you swear you won't leave me?" Beau whispered. His ribs were throbbing with the effort to hold it together.
Edward's eyes were wide and serious. "I swear."
The smell of his breath was soothing. Beau followed along with the rhythm until his own breathing was under control. Edward waited until Beau's body relaxed and the beeping returned to normal.
"Better?"
"Yes," he said cautiously.
Edward shook his head and muttered something unintelligible. One word was definitely "overreaction."
"Why did you say that? Are you tired of having to save me all the time? Do you want me to go away?"
"No, I don't want to be without you, Beau, of course not. Be rational. And I have no problem with saving you, either—if it weren't for the fact that I was the one putting you in danger . . . that I'm the reason you're here."
"Yes, you are the reason." Beau frowned. "The reason I'm here—alive."
"Barely." His voice was just a whisper. "Covered in gauze and plaster and hardly able to move."
"I wasn't referring to my most recent near-death experience," Beau snapped. "I was thinking of the others—you can take your pick. If it weren't for you, I would be rotting away in the Forks cemetery by now."
Edward winced at the words, but the haunted look didn't leave his eyes.
"That's not the worst part, though. Not seeing you there on the floor . . . crumpled and broken. Not thinking I was too late. Not even hearing you scream in pain—all those unbearable memories that I'll carry with me for the rest of eternity. No, the very worst was feeling . . . knowing that I couldn't stop. Believing that I was going to kill you myself."
Beau was certain. "But you didn't."
"I could have. So easily."
Beau knew he needed to stay calm . . . but Edward was trying to talk himself into leaving, and the panic returned, fluttering in his lungs like a trapped bird and trying to get out.
"Promise me."
"What?"
"You know what." He was starting to get angry now. Edward was so determined to dwell on the negative.
Edward heard the change in his tone. "I don't seem to be strong enough to stay away from you, so I suppose that you'll get your way . . . whether it kills you or not," he added roughly.
"Good." He hadn't promised, though—a fact that Beau had not missed. The panic was only barely contained; he had no strength left to control the anger. "You told me how you stopped . . . now I want to know why."
"Why?"
"Why you did it," Beau demanded. "Why didn't you just let the venom spread? By now I would just like you."
Edward's eyes seemed to turn a flat black, and Beau remembered that this was something he never intended Beau to know. Alice must have been preoccupied by the things she learned about herself . . . or she'd been very careful with her thoughts around him. Clearly Edward had no idea she had filled him in on the mechanics of vampire conversions.
"I'll be the first to admit that I have no experience with relationships," Beau said. "But it just seems logical that both men have to be somewhat equal . . . as in, one of them can't always be swooping in and saving the other one. They have to save each other equally."
Edward rested his chin on his arms. His expression was smooth, the anger reined in, evidently not angry—with Beau at least. Beau hoped he'd get a chance to warn Alice before Edward caught up to her.
"You have saved me."
"I can't always be Jimmy Olsen," Beau insisted. "I want to be Superman, too. And not Mike Newton's type of Superman."
"You don't know what you're asking." His voice was soft.
"I think I do."
"Beau, you don't. I've had almost ninety years to think about this, and I'm still not sure."
"Do you wish that Carlisle hadn't saved you?"
"No, I don't wish that," Edward paused. "But my life was over. I wasn't giving anything up."
"You are my life. You're the only thing it would hurt me to lose."
Edward was very calm, though. Decided.
"I can't do it, Beau. I won't do that to you."
"Why not?" His voice was raspy from days under sedation, and he couldn't get up to the volume he wanted. "Don't tell me it's too hard! After today, or I guess it was a few days ago . . . anyway, after that, it should be nothing."
Edward glared at him. "And the pain?"
Beau blanched at the thought; he couldn't help it. But he tried to keep his expression from showing how clearly he remembered that feeling . . . the fire in his veins.
"That's my problem. I can handle it."
"It's possible to take bravery to the point where it becomes insanity."
"It's not an issue," Beau insisted. "Three days. Big deal."
Edward grimaced again, reminded that Beau was more informed than he had ever intended him to be. His red eyes became speculative.
"What about Charlie? Or Renée?"
Beau opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed it again. Edward waited, his expression becoming more and more triumphant, knowing that Beau had no true answer.
"Look, that's not an issue either," he finally muttered. It was unconvincing. "Renée has always made the choices that work for her—she'd want me to do the same. And Charlie's resilient, he's used to being on his own. I can't take care of them forever. I have my own life to live."
"Exactly. And I won't end it for you."
"If you're waiting for me to be on my deathbed, I've got news for you! I was just there!"
"You're going to recover," Edward reminded him.
Beau took a deep breath to calm down, ignoring the spasm of pain it triggered. They stared at each other in silence. There was no compromise on either face.
"No, I'm not."
"Of course you are. You may have a scar or two . . . "
"You're wrong," Beau insisted. "I'm going to die."
"Really, Beau." He was anxious again. "You'll be out of here in a few days. Two weeks at the most."
"I may not die now . . . but I'm going to die sometime," Beau hissed. "Every minute of every day, I get closer. And I'm going to get old."
Edward pressed his fingers to his temples as if trying to banish a migraine. "That's how it's supposed to happen. How it should happen. How it would have happened if I didn't exist—and I shouldn't exist."
Beau snorted. "That's stupid. That's like going to someone who's just won the lottery, taking their money, and saying, 'Look, let's just go back to how things should be. It's better that way.' And I'm not buying it."
"I'm hardly a lottery prize," Edward growled.
"That's right. You're much better."
"Beau, we're not having this discussion anymore. I refuse to damn you to an eternity of night and that's the end of it."
"To some people in this world, I'm already damned," Beau chuckled, knowing it aggravated Edward even more. "And if you think that's the end, you don't know me very well. You're not the only vampire in my life."
His eyes went black again. "Alice wouldn't dare."
For the moment he looked so frightening that Beau had to believe it. He couldn't imagine someone brave enough to cross Edward.
"Alice already saw it, didn't she? That's what she said in the gym. She said, 'so this is how it happens.' That's why the things she sees upset you. She knows I'm going to be like you . . . someday."
"She's wrong," Edward shook his head so fast it blurred. "She also saw you dead, but that didn't happen, either."
Beau shrugged even though it hurt. "You'll never catch me betting against Alice."
The two stared at each other for a very long time. It was quiet except for the whirring of machines, the beeping, the dripping, the ticking of the big clock on the wall. Finally, Edward's expression softened.
"So where does that leave us?" Beau asked.
"I believe it's called an impasse."
"Ouch," Beau muttered, not just from the pain.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," he lied.
"I don't believe you."
"I'm not going back to sleep." Beau was sure he would leave.
"You need rest. All this arguing isn't good for you."
"So give in," Beau hinted, watching him reach for the call button.
"Nice try."
"No!"
Edward ignored him.
"Yes?" the speaker on the wall squawked.
"I think we're ready for more pain medication," Edward said, ignoring the furious eyes on him.
"I'll send in the nurse." The voice sounded very bored.
"I won't take it," Beau promised.
Edward looked at the fluids hanging beside the bed. "I don't think they're going to ask you to swallow anything."
The monitor started to beep louder. Edward sighed in frustration.
"Beau, you're in pain. You need to relax so you can heal. Why are you being so difficult? They're not going to put any more needles in you now."
"I'm not afraid of the needles," Beau mumbled. "I'm afraid to close my eyes."
Then Edward smiled his crooked smile, and he took Beau's face in his hands. "I told you I'm not going anywhere. Don't be afraid. As long as it makes you happy, I'll be here."
Beau smiled back, ignoring the aches. "You're talking about forever, you know."
"Oh, you'll get over it—it's just a crush."
"I was shocked when Renée swallowed that one. I know you know better."
"That's the beautiful thing about being human," Edward told him. "Things change."
His eyes narrowed. "Don't hold your breath."
He was still laughing when the nurse came in, brandishing a syringe.
"Excuse me," she said brusquely to Edward.
He got up and leaned against the wall, waiting. Beau kept his eyes on him, still apprehensive. Edward met his gaze calmly.
"Here you go, honey, you'll feel better now."
"Thanks," Beau mumbled, unenthused. It didn't take long. He could feel the drowsiness coming on almost immediately.
"That ought to do it," the nurse muttered as his eyelids drooped. She must have left the room, because something cold and smooth touched his face.
"Stay." The word was slurred.
"I will," Edward promised. His voice was beautiful, like a lullaby. "Like I said, as long as it makes you happy . . . as long as it's what's best for you."
"'S not the same thing."
"Don't worry about that now, Beau. You can argue with me when you wake up."
Beau thought he smiled. "Okay."
"I love you," Edward whispered.
"Me, too."
"I know."
Beau turned his head slightly . . . searching. Edward knew what he was after. He kissed him gently.
"Thanks," Beau sighed.
"Anytime."
Beau wasn't really there anymore. But he fought against the stupor weakly. There was just one more thing he wanted to tell Edward.
"Edward?" Beau struggled to pronounce his name clearly.
"Yes?"
"I'm betting on Alice," he mumbled.
And then the night closed over him again.
A/N: When I first planned this story, I thought back to when Life and Death was announced. What a great opportunity for Stephenie to play with her own mythology, and she did! Beau became a vampire at the end. A few of you thought this might happen here, and for a couple days, I considered tossing this chapter and the next one. But I went back to my original plan. I'm eager to continue the saga with my Beau Swan, especially considering Renesmee is not a factor here.
And so I plan to work on a New Moon AU as well, but one that greatly deviates from the original. I felt compelled to closely follow Twilight to set this up. No promises on when this AU will come out, but I'm very excited to get started.
I want to thank all of you for taking this ride with me. When I published this, COVID-19 was quietly gaining ground around the world. Halfway through, it hit my family personally. Let me say that your reviews and the consistent posting schedule helped keep me afloat. Thank you - as always, thank you all for coming back every week.
One more thing - I mentioned some side projects a few weeks ago. Happy to say that one has developed into something longer than I anticipated. Hoping to publish that in the next few months.
Have a safe week everyone - see you next Sunday for the epilogue.