"Oh, Edward."

Before Edward could say a word, his arms were full of a familiar, tiny, presence. Thin arms wrapped around him tightly. Edward had expected Alice to be waiting for him at the airport.

He could have chosen any airport in the world, and she would have been waiting for him.

Alice, of course, undoubtedly knew what had happened the moment—the moment Bella Swan had stepped into that room.

No, Alice had known every future that might have happened. She must have felt so helpless, miles across the sea and unable to do anything but watch.

Edward darkly wondered if she'd found it relieving, as Carlisle had, when Marcus had relieved Edward of his head and then Alec relieved him of his senses. Carlisle hadn't said it, of course, and it'd been nothing more than a flash, barely a thought at all, but—He felt Aro had ensured that Edward would not suffer a terrible lapse in control. If Edward had had to hold out another second or two—then perhaps Bella Swan would not be alive today.

Now, of course, they would never know if Edward could have persevered or not.

Edward for all he was loathe to admit it, for all it frightened him, would never know either.

"I'm so sorry," Alice thought kindly, as she stepped back and looked at him with sympathy. Jasper was standing behind her, several feet back on the driver's side of the car and gave Edward an entirely too empathetic look.

He, after all, had been in Edward's shoes too many times to count.

Edward tried not to bristle visibly. Instead, without a word, he made his way towards the car. Jasper, of course, sensed Edward's foul mood and offered him a somewhat wryer smile and a dry thought, "It isn't much fun, is it?"

"Edward, he doesn't mean it like that," Alice chastised, a flash of Edward responding with some catty remark having passed her third eye.

And oh, he had wanted to for a moment there, but he was better than that. More, he knew—for all that he hated the idea of having such poor control that he had been sent home, not even trusted to remain on the same continent as the girl, it wasn't Jasper's fault.

It technically wasn't Edward's fault either.

Even Aro, after he'd finally allowed Edward to return to his senses, had admitted as much. Edward had phenomenal control, he'd said, the potential perhaps to one day surpass Carlisle, but not when it came to Bella Swan.

No, if Aro was to be believed, then it was simply a series of very inopportune coincidences and having Edward remain in Italy simply wasn't worth the risk.

Carlisle, of course, had agreed.

However, Carlisle had only heard what Aro had said, not what he'd thought.

Edward found himself staring dully out the window as he sat in the backseat. It was dark outside; Edward had strategically timed his flight to arrive in Alaska after the sun had set. This was quite the accomplishment, given it was the beginning of summer and the sunlight hours stretched longer and longer.

Even through the glass he could see the stars, far brighter than they would be to the human eye, and they would be brighter still as they made their way to Denali National Park and their 'cousins' who lived there.

Returning to the Denali had been an easy decision.

Carlisle himself had suggested it almost immediately. Alice and Jasper would be sure to find him quickly enough and the three of them could pass the long summer months among family.

It would be a good opportunity to visit Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, and Eleazar. It had been years since a proper visit, they were due for one. Tanya, at the very least, would undoubtedly be delighted to see him. That, Edward was not necessarily looking forward to.

Yes, if this had been the original plan for the summer, spending a few weeks with their cousins-it would have been a fine summer. Even returning now would not have been so terrible. Of course, Carlisle had refused to leave.

Oh, he had suggested that perhaps Rosalie and Emmett, or even Esme, could accompany Edward back but he'd had no intention of leaving himself. Just as, before this whole mess had started, he'd had every intention of travelling to Volterra alone.

And so, Edward had insisted that he could go on by himself, the family could join him in a few months' time, because if Edward couldn't look after Carlisle, couldn't keep an eye on that hornet's nest, then he'd have to leave it to Rosalie, Esme, and Emmett.

Except, Edward had his doubts. Oh, Edward loved his family dearly, but-Esme was so very innocent, Emmett was so-not necessarily slow, Emmett wasn't stupid, but he was a simple man of simple tastes who had no time for manipulations, and of course Rosalie might be worth something if only she could be bothered to look away from a mirror. Not to mention that none of them had Edward's gift. Quite frankly, Esme and Emmett wouldn't try as they wouldn't see anything amiss, and Rosalie couldn't be bothered.

It troubled him.

No, troubled was too mild a word.

The entire flight back he had nearly come undone.

Bella Swan wasn't the reason Edward had been sent home, no, she was the excuse.

Aro, of all people, knew that Edward was dangerous. Edward might not have Aro's depth, but he had a breadth that Aro could only envy. Distance was Edward's key, and he could catch every scheme and misgiving making its way through the brothers' minds whether they liked it or not.

Edward could see right through them.

More, he could do so in a way that the others could not. The rest saw only Aro's genial smile, his overly polite welcome, and generosity with his material wealth. They might wonder if he was a bit too genial for a man who had amassed such power. They might wonder if something lay beneath, but they would never know for certain.

Carlisle, especially, endeavored to see the best and brightest in everyone that surrounded him. It was both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. He saw the best in his family, the best in-in Edward himself, who was hardly worthy of such high regard. However, he also saw the best in his friends, those who did not follow his diet, and he saw the best in Aro of the Volturi as well.

Carlisle steadily refused to see the dark undercurrents that ran in some people's souls.

Edward, on the other hand, could see it plain as day.

Had, in fact, in less than twenty-four hours.

From the stories, Edward had always assumed that it was Aro who was truly in charge. Caius sounded like a mindless tyrant, a man who clung to power but thought little of it or how it'd come to be in his grasp. Marcus sounded like—a waste of space, something that should have died long ago and a mockery of the human condition. Aro, now, he was the one who collected, who kept an eye out for gifted individuals, while proclaiming to love both humanity and the arts while rejecting Carlisle's diet.

It'd been Aro that Edward had been afraid of, when Carlisle announced he would be visiting Volterra for the summer to help with this mad scheme. What Aro could have wanted with giftless Carlisle, Edward didn't know, but he hadn't intended to sit idly by and find out.

It had never occurred to Edward to fear Marcus.

Carlisle had always dismissed Marcus, claimed to barely know the man. For all that Carlisle occasionally thought of his time in Italy, he had never reflected on time spent with Marcus. Even that dreadful painting in Carlisle's office seemed to almost forget the man. Aro, Caius, and even Carlisle hidden behind them shone so brightly when contrasted with the orgy of human despair depicted beneath them. Marcus was little more than paint on the canvas.

He'd even fooled Edward for a moment.

Oh, that gift had been—wrong, of course. Dreadfully wrong, insultingly so, but the man made it very clear that he was an imbecile incapable of defending himself or anyone else. Even had Edward been what Marcus suspected, there was nothing he would do about it.

No, Marcus had seemed the type to toddle along, nod his head now and then, and let the entire world pass him by.

And then, of course, Marcus had acted.

Before Edward could gather his wits, could think of anything besides that smell (God, that smell), Marcus had ripped Edward's head from his neck. Even now, now and forever, there was a jagged, ugly, scar around the circumference of Edward's neck left by Marcus' teeth.

Even Jasper's scars were not so brutal as this…

To the human eye, he knew, he assured himself, that it'd be hardly noticeable. Jasper never looked pockmarked or disfigured in the eyes of their many human classmates. It was unlikely they'd notice, even if they were sitting right next to him. They'd find him just as attractive yet unapproachable as ever.

But his family would see it every day, Carlisle's friends would see it, even Jasper's small smattering of friends, and they'd-They'd draw conclusions, false conclusions, about how Carlisle Cullen's animal devouring progeny could have possibly gotten a scar like that. Their minds would whisper even while they offered false smiles of sympathy.

And Edward, every time he looked at his warped, vampiric, reflection, that scar would greet him. Cutting right through his Adam's Apple, it'd immediately draw his eye with its jagged, vicious, raised edge. Every time Edward caught his eye in a mirror he'd be reliving that awful moment. Marked for all time for what he truly was beneath the crystalline veneer.

And then Marcus, and not Aro, had banished Edward from Volterra.

It wasn't Aro in charge, no, it was Marcus, and not a person alive save for Edward knew it. Not even, somehow, Aro himself.

When Alec had released Edward, and Edward found himself blinking and readjusting to a reality that had drifted several hours past where it should have been, he'd been greeted both by Aro and Carlisle.

Carlisle had been-not disappointed, no more than he ever was when one of the others slipped. However, he had been relieved, fearful, wary, an all around cocktail of anxiety. He'd wanted nothing more than to send Edward safely home and out of Volterra as soon as he could. Not only for Bella but for Edward himself.

Aro had been… displeased and anxious. He'd been blocking his thoughts, of course, having undoubtedly learned how to do so from Edward's own memories. However, for all that Aro could ramble through the Ars Poetica, something of his true state of mind seeped through.

He hadn't wanted to be in this situation any more than Edward and Carlisle. He'd clearly seen it as necessary, every step of it, but he hadn't liked it. It was then that Edward realized that perhaps it hadn't been his idea.

He'd seen Edward's memories, yes, but he'd also seen Marcus'. Aro undoubtedly thought he was in charge, that he was the one who had ultimately made this decision, but whatever Marcus had said to him-it had been said in such a way that Aro felt he had no other option.

Marcus had masterfully forced Aro's hand with Aro being none the wiser.

And thanks to Bella Swan, they had the perfect excuse to get rid of him. One that Edward couldn't even argue against, not to Carlisle, at any rate.

The very idea of her had tormented him on that flight back.

She'd been rather a plain thing, all things considered. Oh, not ugly by any means, but certainly not stunning, nothing that seemed worthy of this much of a hassle.

This was, of course, what had made Edward suspect that something was not right here. Why would the Volturi ever go through this ridiculous charade just for one human? Gifted, yes, but Edward didn't see why they just couldn't turn her and be done with it if that's what they wanted. That they set up this ploy that coincidentally enough only Carlisle could possibly help with? That Carlisle would feel morally obligated to intervene with, despite the centuries that had passed? It'd seemed awfully convenient.

Seeing the girl at that first breakfast, before he'd—smelled her and lost reason altogether, had only confirmed that.

Perfectly ordinary looking. Brown hair, brown eyes that—he would admit, for dark eyes, they had a shocking amount of depth to them. There was a lightness in there that was usually lacking in dark eyes, making it seem as if he was peering into sunlight striking against the water of a deep well.

Attractive, for a human perhaps, but Rosalie when she had been human would have easily outshone her. Surrounded by the crystal, perfect, features of the vampire, the girl had seemed a dime a dozen.

She did not make up for this with charisma either. She'd been decidedly awkward at breakfast, tripping over her own feet, shuffling her way to sit by herself at a table, picking at her food and looking embarrassed by her own existence.

The only thing remotely interesting about her was that, as Carlisle had suspected from what Aro had described, Edward could not hear her thoughts. Whether that could be called a gift, whether there wasn't something wrong with the way she thought, Edward had yet to decide.

The point was, however, that beyond her remarkable scent and her remarkable mental silence, she was just a human. A human much like any other human that Edward had seen day in and day out for a hundred years.

There should have been nothing special about her.

And yet, in only a few seconds, she had destroyed Edward's entire world.

That moment she'd looked him in the eye as he breathed her in, when he saw himself reflected there, the face of the demon he'd thought he left behind—He'd hated her. Oh, how he'd hated her for looking at him like that, for forcing him to look at himself and remember that that was his face.

And now—now his entire family thought he'd been defeated by little more than a girl. Undone by a scent, forced to be sent home because he simply couldn't be trusted to his own devices, while the Volturi sat there laughing in triumph.

He could just picture Marcus, looking at him with those cold and lifeless eyes, the only emotion in them condemnation.

Alice would know what would become of their family. That she hadn't said anything yet, as she stepped into the car and motioned quietly for Jasper to start driving, was perhaps a good sign. Surely, if anything too awful were to come about, if Marcus had anything significant planned, if anything untoward should happen to any of them, then Alice would know.

Of course, she hadn't been much help with Bella Swan but—she couldn't have known that, that wasn't how her gift worked. It could have been any one of them who agreed to take that course with Bella, to Edward's misfortune, it had been him.

As it was, Esme had been devastated. She hadn't understood that Edward was a danger, he had always been so good at control. More, she hadn't understood the Volturi. To the Cullens, interacting with the human world was worth the risk of accidents. Tragic, of course, when it happened, but it didn't keep them from attending school or Carlisle from working and posing as a human father. To Esme, this charade was similar, they'd do their best but accidents could happen-she did not realize that the Volturi, who killed humans every few weeks, might see things very differently.

The Volturi did not see why they should risk Bella Swan's survival just so that the Cullens could 'play human'. The moment Edward had made himself a significant danger to her, he'd been removed from the picture.

He was sure, even now, she was still begging Carlisle to see reason. And Carlisle—Marcus' lies spoken through Aro's tongue were still ringing in Carlisle's ears.

Edward clenched and unclenched his hands, barely minding not to rip the fabric of his pants.

"It's not going to work," Alice chirped from the front seat, sounding unnaturally tired.

To Jasper, she explained, "Edward wants to go back to Volterra."

Jasper only offered an understanding grunt, as if that's all that idea was even worthy of. In his thoughts was the same wordless dismissal, that had Edward been sent home, the Volturi would see to it he would not return.

Well, that was easy enough for him to think, given that this time he had conveniently sat out of all of it. More, he'd never truly felt like a part of this family, always on the outer edge, a more distant cousin than the Denali.

Perhaps he felt it didn't concern him if the rest of their family never returned home.

"You won't make it to the gate," Alice said, "Edward, they watch that place very closely, even in the daylight."

"Edward's not the first vampire to enter that city thinking of making mischief," Jasper mused to himself, thinking of the thousands of years of enemies the Volturi must have accrued, and how delicious a target their headquarters must have seemed.

"Are you seriously suggesting I just stay here?" Edward balked, finally speaking out loud.

Alice sighed and turned in her seat to look at him, "Edward, they'll be fine. Trust me, I'm watching everything. Now, Rosalie has a good chance of running out of art class screaming—"

"You see!" Edward shouted triumphantly.

"—But that's because there's a good chance Marcus will start stripping as soon as Bella enters the room," Alice finished with a cheeky smile.

Of course, being Alice, she didn't expand on that last bit or even let Edward see the relevant vision. Instead, The Battle Hymn of the Republic started merrily playing through her head, obscuring any hint that would ruin Alice's fun.

"Anyways," Alice continued with a wave of her hand, "My point is that I'm watching. I may be in a different time zone, but I am keeping an eye on things, and I don't think that Aro has any nefarious schemes to break up the coven or anything like that. In fact—he's probably going to try and fail to have tea with Esme, get to know Carlisle's wife. I almost feel bad for him."

"It's not Aro that concerns me," Edward said darkly, causing Alice to blink in confusion and glance over at Jasper, but all he could do was supply her with a shrug.

Oh, Jasper knew how Edward felt about Marcus, or he certainly did now at any rate. However, why Edward would feel like this—it was as unfathomable to him as it would have been to Edward himself not twenty-four hours ago.

No, Edward had to return.

Impossible as it might be, he had to.

He had to save his family. Not only that, but he had to confront the girl herself, confront that scent, and draw it deep into himself and use it to face the monster that had made its home beneath his granite skin. Edward did have what it takes to control himself, to defeat that inner demon, and he could stare that girl in the eye and treat her as if she were anyone else.

He was not a demon, no matter the hand that had been given him, no matter what Marcus thought of him.

"Edward," Alice said, her tone now a little sharper, "Believe me when I say that you don't make it. I don't see a single future where you make it back to the castle. They will always catch you, Edward, every single time, and if you push them too far, they—They won't hesitate to hurt you, Edward, not if you make them."

She let the visions play out in her mind.

Dozens upon dozens of attempts to break into the city of Volterra. Under cover of nightfall, in disguise in the daylight hours, through the sewage system, taking advantage of some great distraction he himself caused. Even more courteous methods of simply talking to Carlisle, to Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, even Aro himself yielded nothing.

In no future did Edward make it back to Volterra.

Well, if Edward couldn't make it back in—what if he could get the girl out?

"Edward—" Alice started; her eyes wide.

"No, listen to me, Alice," Edward insisted, a smile growing on his face as it came together. He reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, ignoring Jasper's small frown as he continued to drive.

"I'll talk to the girl outside the city walls, in Florence perhaps, so that no laws are broken. I'll talk to her, prove I can handle it, and they'll have no choice but to let me return."

"Edward, I don't think—"

"Alice, if you can't be there then I have to be," Edward said, "We're our family's first line of defense. Your gift may work across an ocean but mine doesn't and I can't just leave them there to their tender mercies."

"If I can prove that I can be in that—girl's presence," Edward spat, feeling hatred and humiliation like bile rising up from his esophagus as her face flashed before his mind's eye, "Then they have nothing to stand on. I will be no more a risk than any of Aro's guard."

Then they'd see. Carlisle would see, all of them would, including the girl herself. She would never look at him the way she had in the library again, he could stop thinking about his reflection in her dark eyes and—

Visions began to dance through Alice's mind as Edward madly dashed through the possibilities.

Did he call Carlisle? No, he'd never agree, and he'd be suspicious of any seemingly innocuous attempt to glean information. He'd taken care not to think anything damning in Edward's presence, but Aro seemed to have fed him some poisonous idea or another. Edward asking too many questions regarding Bella Swan—it'd only water the seeds of fear Aro had sown in Carlisle's mind.

And oh, how Edward hated him for that, him and Marcus, who had undoubtedly come up with the words in the first place. Perhaps Aro, too, in his own way, was innocent. He'd seemed to believe what Marcus had said was true, leaving Marcus as the true mastermind and—

And Edward was distracting himself again.

There would be time, when Edward returned, to deal with Marcus.

Now, Emmett? No, though Edward loved him dearly, Emmett was useless at this sort of thing. He'd neither be able to help relocate Bella outside the city nor even supply Edward the means of doing so himself. Plus, he'd undoubtedly tell Rosalie, and then it'd all spiral into some wild misunderstanding that she would hold over his head into eternity.

He couldn't trouble Esme with any of this. She was so distraught as it was, he'd have to call her tonight and reassure her that he was fine. If he let on just how—upsetting this had all been. It'd break her heart. He couldn't cause her any more pain than he already had.

Which left, of course, Rosalie.

Except Rosalie would say no without hesitation. She might not like the idea of pulling the wool over this human's eyes, of uprooting their entire lives for this one girl in Italy, but she wouldn't help Edward either.

No, per Alice's vision, she'd accuse Edward of trying to soothe his wounded pride. This, of course, was an oversimplification but Rosalie had little time to ponder matters that didn't involve her own reflection.

Which meant Edward was on his own.

If Alice had been in Italy, it would have been no problem. Of course, had Alice been there, they would have been dealing with an entirely different problem of Aro attempting to recruit her for her gift.

"Oh good, have you decided to be reasonable?" Alice asked, "Look, Edward, they'll be back soon. Call Esme and Carlisle tonight, talk to them, and in only a few months everyone will be back and—"

Alice cut herself off. In her mind, a phone started ringing.

Not a second later, Edward's phone was ringing in his pocket. He looked at it, Rosalie's number, it must have been a snap decision.

"Hello Rosalie," Edward said as he picked up, Rosalie barely even waited for him to finish.

"Oh my god," She spat without prelude, "I wish I was you."

Well, those were words he never expected to come out of Rosalie's mouth.

Oh, Rosalie might struggle with vampirism, might loathe what she'd become even more than Edward himself did but she did ever so love being Rosalie Hale. There was no one so beautiful in the world, after all.

"How so?" Edward asked.

"You get to go home," she explained, "I, meanwhile, am stuck here in this circus with this—utter freakshow of a human."

Edward's brow furrowed, and he glanced at Jasper and Alice. Jasper seemed just as clueless as Edward himself, Alice, however, looked like she was barely keeping in giggles. Alice winked at Jasper, who smiled fondly back at her, content for now to be left out of the joke.

"You mean Bella?" Edward asked slowly.

"What other human could I possibly be talking about?" Rosalie asked in exasperation, as if Edward was slow for asking.

Rosalie, however, didn't wait for a second question, "I swear, I am two seconds from getting Emmett, telling him to pack his bags, and flying to Hawaii. If it didn't mean leaving Carlisle and Esme—and I swear, Carlisle feels way too bad for this girl, at this point she deserves what she gets."

Edward couldn't help but sigh and rub at his temples. Talking to Rosalie was always such a bother, "Rosalie, what are you even talking about?"

The girl had seemed perfectly ordinary to him. Well, save for the scent, obviously.

Rosalie let out a loud, very unladylike, guffaw, "You didn't make it far enough into art class, Edward. Do you know what art class is? Do you?"

"No," Edward said slowly, wondering when Rosalie would get to the point.

"It's Magic Mike," Rosalie hissed, "It's a strip routine. As in Marcus, that papery, petrified—he takes off all his clothes, and she draws him."

He—what?

Alice could no longer contain her giggles. They were quiet enough that Rosalie shouldn't hear them on the other end, but only barely. Jasper, next to her, was also shaking with mirth, trying to even imagine what the petrified man must look like without any clothes.

So far, he was picturing "The Simpsons" Mr. Burns.

"It was—there are no words, Edward, for how gross an experience that was," Rosalie said, audibly shuddering on the other end of the phone.

Was she implying—had Marcus assaulted that poor girl?

Edward couldn't say he saw the appeal, any number of women were as attractive as Bella Swan, but if that wasn't an undue sexual advance then Edward would eat his hat. Likely the man had told Bella it was a part of the art experience, as drawing figures in the nude was, and the girl was naïve and young enough that she had no idea how to tell the difference.

Edward—felt something in him twitch in guilt.

Here, a few moments ago, the girl had been an inconvenience, an excuse used by the Volturi. Now, however, he remembered what Carlisle had told them in the beginning. This girl had been in their clutches for months now, she would now never escape, and all Carlisle hoped for was to soften the landing into her new life.

She was a victim in this—as much if not more so than Edward's family.

Whatever Marcus had planned for her, whatever thoughts Edward had dismissed because it'd been Marcus who had them, they could not be anything good.

Certainly not something a girl so young deserved.

It wasn't just Edward's family that Edward would have to save. No, Carlisle was right, Edward would have to save the girl as well.

Feeling emboldened, Edward took the plunge. "Rosalie, do you mind asking for Bella's number?"

"What?" Rosalie asked, "Did you not just listen—tell me you're not into that, Edward. Please."

"Rosalie," Edward said shortly, "The number."

"No," Rosalie said, "Trust me, Edward, I am saving you a lot of grief. You do not want to talk to this girl, she's a walking disaster. Not to mention she made Esme cry at breakfast—"

"Rosalie," Edward repeated, feeling the last of his temper unravelling, "All you have to do is decide to ask for her number. Just consider it, if only for a moment."

Rosalie, finally, briefly acknowledged the possibility. The vision in Alice's mind took form, Rosalie reluctantly approaching Bella and asking for Bella's phone number. Bella would respond with wariness, a look of suspicion, but she'd give the number just the same.

A number that was now inscribed in Alice's memory.

"Thank you, Rosalie," Edward said with a smile.

"I don't even want to know why you need that number," Rosalie said, "Just—please, please don't get attached."

"I'll endeavor not to," Edward said, "Goodbye, Rosalie."

He waited patiently for her farewell then hung up. He triumphantly smiled at Alice.

Alice glanced at Jasper.

"Edward," she finally said, her face wary but also oddly resigned. Well, not oddly, because Alice new the future, and she knew that Edward would not turn back now. She simply felt the need to say this all the same, "I—really don't think you should do it. I don't see Bella taking it seriously—"

"But there's a chance," Edward interrupted, and indeed, there was.

A slim possibility, but there was a chance she would agree to meet with him outside Volterra. Oddly accompanied by Aro's little bodyguard, but that wouldn't be a problem. From there, well, Edward was sure he would come up with something.

"Edward," Jasper said, his voice jarring after having been silent for so long, "Whatever you're planning, know that this girl is not for you. If the Volturi want her, they have her, don't get in the way of that."

Practical, pragmatic, and heartless as always.

Yes, Jasper would say that, wouldn't he?

And of course, that only hardened Edward's resolve. Jasper could leave the girl to die, to be turned into a slave of the Volturi, Edward however—he would tell her the truth that no one dared to.

Edward would set her free.

Author's Note: Oh Edward.

Thanks to Vinelle for betaing the chapter and helping to best present Edward's mad poetry.

Thanks to readers and reviewers, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I Don't Own Twilight