He ghosted across the darkened earth, making no more sound than the whisper of rain that sluiced down his cheeks and nose. Had he wanted to halt his steps, he was quite sure he would not have been able to. Three hundred years since he had seen her, and now he would see her again. It was as if a rope tugged directly on his heart, leading him to the place where she waited; silent and still, she waited.

The stones around him carried the burden of age, draped in choking ivy, worn smooth by time and relentless precipitation. His fingers traced the letters of the familiar names—names from his time in this place. Michael Newton. Lauren Crowley. Angela Cheney. At that one, he stopped. Carefully, he placed a reverent hand on the top of the stone and caressed it gently. His love had loved Angela. His love had found Angela's company to be soothing and happy. For that, he was eternally grateful to the soul who had passed almost two hundred and thirty years before. He wished there was a way to let that beautiful girl know that she had not been forgotten; that someone thought of her even now.

He could see his destination in the distance. The cenotaph stood tall and proud, glimmering almost mystically in the twilight. Not even the cover of night could diminish the monument to his beloved. How he wished he could have been there for her. Long fingers clutched at his chest, knowing that if the heart below still beat, they would cheerfully pluck that heart from its cavity.

He had one more stop to make before he could see her. One more person to whom he would pay his long overdue respects, and then he would lay his eternal devotion at her feet.

CHARLES SWAN

Seeing the name, etched into the cold edifice, brought him to his knees. This man who loved his beloved, who showed his devotion to her in the most endearing and awkward of ways, deserved more than this worn rock. His remains should be housed in the finest of marble tombs. Charlie, however, had been a simple man, with simple desires, and Edward knew in his heart that anything bigger than this simple marker would have embarrassed the man.

Not for the first time, he wished that he could cry. Dry sobs heaved his body forward onto the sodden earth, and he clung with all of his might to the evidence of Charles Swan's life. That same evidence was also a testament to her; that she, too, had once lived.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden. The last time he had seen Charlie had been the day the world lost its light. Charlie had stood, a broken man, as the final stone had been placed. Bella was gone, and with her the sun. Edward had watched from the shadows of the forest that surrounded the little white church as the whole town had gathered in her honor. That church had long since succumbed to time.

He was aware that time was passing, and yet he could not find the strength to move. The day she ceased to exist, Edward did as well. His family had tried so hard to understand, but the anguish of losing her had sent him half-mad. From the moment Alice had seen her take the dive, Edward had become a shell of his former self. He had still taken up space, yes, but that was the extent of it. Suddenly, it had been as if he were staring at the world through the bottom of a thick glass. Colors were there, but with no apparent shape. He was aware of sounds, but they seemed to be in some language that he had not yet learned. Twenty years passed before he spoke his first word: Bella.

Leaving was supposed to be the right thing to do. Bella should have found love with a boy, married and raised a family, and died an old lady with a heart full of beautiful memories. Edward had hoped that maybe he would feature prominently in those memories, of course, but he wanted them to be fond remembrances of a first love. Instead, she had hurled herself into the seething ocean, never to be found again.

His family had grieved, as well. Alice had been inconsolable for a decade, unable to face the rest of the family; namely, Edward. Jasper had carried with him the crushing guilt, sure that he was the reason for the decision to leave. Emmett seemed to have forgotten how to laugh, and Rosalie even showed her sadness in her own way. Carlisle and Esme had been the hardest to face, though. His loving parents had been convinced that Bella would be Edward's savior. Her very presence had put a light in dear Esme's eyes, and her absence had snuffed it forever.

Here, so close to her final resting place, he was able to see and hear again. The green of the trees was oppressive. She had not been fond of the color green. To her, it meant wet, cold, sunless, and pungent. Bella had been convinced that green was even a smell. The rain that had been scarcely a whisper upon his entry of the churchyard now seemed to thunder in his ears. He could hear each individual drop as it landed on each blade of grass. The return of his senses was both a blessing and a curse. He had begged whatever higher power to allow him to feel again, but now that sensation had returned, so had the pain.

Edward doubled over again, feeling completely eviscerated for perhaps the thousandth time. Wracking sobs heaved his body once more as he crawled across the cemetery floor to her memorial. With each inch of travel, he could feel the weight of three hundred years of grief crushing his shoulders, pressing him further into the marshy ground. It seemed as if hours had passed before he was able to trace the letters of her name.

ISABELLA MARIE SWAN

BELOVED

She most certainly was. Even now, Edward's heart sang with love for his mate, ripped too soon from his arms. The cold stone felt warm against his fingers, as if life itself pulsed beneath them. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was once again touching the precious pulse at her neck, the glorious lifeblood that had flowed there. How cavalier her decision to give that up! And, oh, how he wished he could take back his own devastating choice.

Three hundred years of waiting had not been enough. He was not yet ready for the maddening despair that settled in his heart. The agony was crippling, in every sense. Three hundred years of constant, self-inflicted solitude had not been punishment enough for his selfishness. What utter madness had possessed him to believe that either could survive without the other? Bella had been the lucky one. Her escape had been quick and relatively painless. Edward, however, was still dying a slow, merciless death, and would continue to do so for all eternity.

Time lost all meaning as he clutched at her sepulcher. His clawing fingers dug into the unforgiving marble, creating no more damage than three hundred years of erosion had managed. He could not bear to think about the day when the pillars would eventually fall and return to the earth from whence it came. The house where Bella had lived had surrendered to the elements two centuries before, taking with it the memories of a first love discovered. The photographs and mementos were now as much a part of history as his precious mate.

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, Edward could sense that the night was drawing to a close. Within moments, the sun would begin its ascent, and his precious hours with Bella would be over. Even with the cover of clouds, he couldn't risk being spotted clinging to a centuries old grave. Slowly, painfully, he unfurled his arms and pressed his hands to the ground.

"Three hundred years, to the day," a voice spoke. Edward acted on instinct, flinging himself behind the tomb in a flash. He cowered, covering his ears, knowing that he would hear the speaker anyway.

"I told myself you'd never come. No, actually, you told me you'd never come. And I still watched every day, praying that you would. Three hundred years, I watched, to the day."

Edward was sure that he was hallucinating. It wouldn't have been the first time he was certain he heard her voice or saw her chocolate curls. But it wasn't her voice, exactly. This voice made Bella's voice seem rough and uncultured. This voice sounded like all the angels singing at once; the pealing of a bell would have been crude in comparison. He had yet to find his own voice to respond.

"I had hoped I'd receive a more satisfying answer," the voice sighed.

Edward cautiously lifted himself from the floor of the monument, searching for the source of the first hope he'd experienced in three centuries.

"You're every bit as beautiful as I'd feared you would be," she whispered, choking a bit on the words. "Ever so much more beautiful than I remembered."

"Are you really here?" Edward finally found words, but they were not what he had promised himself he would say if he were to ever see her again.

"I am," she affirmed.

"Are you an angel?" he gasped, taking a shaky step in her direction.

"Far from it. I believe you once used the word 'monster.' Eternally damned is another favorite of mine."

"Impossible." His words were no louder than a whisper of silk, but she heard him clearly. Without thinking first, he attempted to slip into her mind. Perhaps he would find it easier now she was of his kind.

"It won't work," she said coldly.

"I deserve your anger," he said contritely.

"Oh, I don't know. You did come back to me, didn't you?" she said coyly, twirling a luminous finger through her luscious curls.

He was entranced by her again, as if no time had passed at all. His eyes greedily drank in her features. They were even more perfect than his memory had allowed. She carried herself with a confidence that her human incarnation had never mastered.

"I would have gladly died that day," he ground out. Not for the first time, he wished that he could shed tears. It seemed that they were stuck somewhere around his throat, constricting his vocal cords.

"And what good would that have done?" Bella snipped. "Certainly no more good than you leaving in the first place."

"Oh, God, Bella. I did die that day! I ceased to exist the moment you leapt from that cliff. How are you here? We were all certain you had been lost to the sea."

"Victoria is how I am here," she answered simply. "After she turned me, Jacob and the rest of the tribe protected me through my newborn phase. During my third month, I was able to avenge my own death when I followed Victoria to Lithuania. She was no match for my newborn strength."

Edward longed to touch her, to hold her in his arms, but he knew that it was the last thing he deserved.

"Can you forgive me, my love?" he whispered. "I know I may not have visited for three hundred years, but you were in every thought. I have done nothing of consequence since the day I left you, only curled up in a ball and rocked myself into a welcome oblivion. I have studied nothing but the lines of your face as my memory could recall them. My family is no longer bound with the strength we once had, for none of us can function without our eighth member."

Edward could focus on nothing but her glorious face. He was fleetingly aware that the day was proving to be a sunny one, though the trees had thus far shielded the cemetery occupants from the sun's rays. He found himself praying for one slim finger of light to break through and land upon her face. She deserved endless sunlight.

"You visited my father before you came to me," she said, her voice taking a strange tone.

"I did," Edward conceded. "I wanted to pay tribute to the man who gave you life. Who loved you more than I had the courage to. I know he stood by you every day, and grieved for you until the day he died. He deserved my respect."

At his words, Bella's features softened. "You wept over my grave for six hours."

"I would gladly have wept for the next three hundred years, had I not feared being discovered," he confessed.

"You left to protect me," she stated.

"I thought it would, at the time." He nodded.

"You'd have done better stay," she said, wryly.

"Had I the chance to do it all over, I would stay by your side for all eternity," he vowed. "I would have married you, and taken you with me into our own forever."

"I find that possibility much more enticing than my own fate," Bella mused.

"Is it too late?" Edward heard himself ask. "What am I saying? Of course it's too late. And I can only blame myself."

Bella studied the beautiful boy in front of her. His eyes were black as pitch, his copper locks as unruly as ever. She had thought him utterly angelic when seen through human eyes, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer perfection she saw with a vampire's sight. His build was still slight, but powerful, and that would never change. The circles under his eyes are what finally reached her, though. He looked like a man who had not slept in years. The haggard bruises bore witness, even to her hardened heart, to the turmoil inside his mind.

"I once heard someone say that vampires mate for life," she said casually. Edward felt his breath catch, and if his heart still beat, it would have given a great thump. "That there is no pain you might feel that I cannot assuage, and there is no heartache that I might suffer that you cannot soothe. I imagine now would be as good a time as any to put that theory to the test."

Edward could not believe the immense joy that filled his entire being at her words. She would let him love her again! She was still here, with him, and she would give him another chance! He felt as if he might be living a dream, but as she approached him slowly, he prayed he would never wake.

She reached out a timid hand, and he took it eagerly. Without even thinking, he twined their fingers together. It felt, in that moment, as if no time had passed since they had last touched.

"I'd like to see my family, please," she commanded quietly.

As he had already decided that he would give her anything she desired for the rest of their existence, it was an easy request to fulfill. He tugged her close and buried his nose in her hair. Gone was the smell of strawberries and freesia that had marked her as a teenage girl. In their place was the fragrance of Bella herself, and it was more ambrosial than the very nectar of the gods.

They walked hand in hand through the monuments to the dead. Edward stopped again to whisper his love to Charlie and Angela before leading his beloved to the churchyard gates. Just before she stepped through, the sun heeded his request and kissed Bella's face. She turned and allowed him to drink in the sight, as she studied his face unabashedly.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," they both said, their voices creating a divine harmony.