A/N: This is New Moon through mid-Eclipse from Edward's perspective. Thanks for reading!

These characters are not mine and all belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Thank you for all of your support in the reviews! ReeceK, losberbisque-1, myspunkette, JerinAnn, nylcajaclyn, BruSwan, porkiswayne, Guiltypleasure82, Tex317, and my guest reviewers!

A/N: This chapter follows "Rosalie's News," Stephenie Meyer's account of Edward learning Bella has jumped off a cliff. You can find it on her website. Below are the final two lines:

"He's at the funeral," the boy finally answered.

I shut the phone again.

Postmortem (New Moon)

Low, heavy notes of the piano vibrate deep in my bones. A current. A river threatening to overrun its banks. Sugary sweet notes roll off violin strings like syrup and incense.

Invisible hands move over the keys, manipulate the bow.

Invisible legs lift invisible bodies to their feet. Murmurs of awe move about the crowd.

Invisible. All of it. Because it's just me and her.

Satin ruffles and ribbons glimmer. Light filters through stained glass and her white dress is illuminated with coral, spring, and sky. Wildflowers, wildflowers from our meadow, bloom from her graceful hands.

And she's walking towards me.

Tulle conceals her face, but I can feel the warmth of her smile.

I can feel it and I always have. This whole time.

It would not have been enough to know that I lived beneath the same sky, sun, moon and stars. This whole time, it would not have been enough.

It was that I was living in her light.

Because I always went back. I always went back.

The wall gives way like paper and I'm falling. Though my feet touch the ground, I'm still falling.

I can't stop falling.

I can't.

Was that a ghost?

I was sure I saw...

That breeze... out of nowhere.

They don't believe what they see. And so what if they did? That would only help my case.

I want to hear her voice but I can only hear the lashing, shrill notes of the pastor as he reads from Job. 'Why is light given to those in misery, and life to the bitter of soul, to those who long for death that does not come, who search for it more than for hidden treasure, who are filled with gladness and rejoice when they reach the grave?'

Just give me one more chance. One more chance. To cling to her. To knot myself around her.

My wishes are futile. My feet carry me unthinkingly to the water's edge. Though it seems as though I should be disintegrating, my body is strong. It cuts powerfully through the water. I claw through the blue green sea like an animal escaping up a silk tapestry, shredding it. There is blood in my wake.

Fishing again?

Yup. They were really biting yesterday.

Have fun.

Thanks, Bells. Pizza tonight?

She smiles a little. Yeah, that sounds nice.

Kay. I'll pick it up on the way home. See ya' later, honey.

She hesitates and then she runs to him before he slips out the door. He's loaded up with gear, but she still manages to get her arms around him.

I love you, Dad, she whispers.

Love you, too, Bells. He kisses the top of her head.

She sits on the couch staring at the blank TV counting the tics of the clock above the stove. The house is warm, but there is the memory of cool skin pressed into her back.

Well, I wasn't going to live without you. What would you do, if the situation were reversed?

Trails of salt water line her cheeks when she's suddenly struck with a fever.

She's on her feet and she's smiling. Her fingers tremble as she pulls her keys from the hook.

Eyes pink from crying, cheeks gray, she's pressing the gas pedal to the floor, coaxing her rusted Chevy to meet her because she's flying. She's falling. Triumph lines every plane of her face.

The fever never breaks. She doesn't even bother to shut the truck door. Why should she?

She's on the edge and she's biting her lip. Not in trepidation, but in anticipation. She's glowing. Her lip slips when she can't contain it, can't stop the massive grin from spreading across her face. The world before her is wide. A faded blue mountain range beneath the inky gray sky. Rain falls, fresh and cleansing. She's come to the very edge of the Earth and it's beautiful and sad. So inviting. It beckons her.

Too late. I know I'm too late. I should have gone. I should have gone sooner.

She's laughing for a long minute and then her face is serious.

I told you, she murmurs, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late.

It's too late.

She moves to jump and she slips on the gravel. Instinctively she leans away from the edge and she falls onto her side, one foot dangling over.

Sitting up, both legs dangle now and she kicks off her shoes and counts the seconds. She can't hear the impact, the ground is too far down, but, still, it's a satisfying sight.

I love you, Edward, she whispers and then she pushes herself over. The trees of the canyon mute her screams, and before the faint echo can reach her...

She's gone.

And now I can't. I can't.

'For sighing has become my daily food; my groans pour out like water.'

The light is blinking on the answering machine. He sets the pizza down.

Charlie. It's Mark... we need you down at the station. As soon as possible.

Charlie's face is white. He stares out the passenger window, but he doesn't see. He doesn't remember walking into the morgue. He just wants to see the girl. To see the girl and prove that it's not his girl.

You may not recognize her, they warn him.

Because it's not her, he argues to himself.

But its her. His body heaves.

For hours he clutches her ice cold hand.

He's at the funeral.

He's at the funeral and Renée is at his side. Billy Black is there, too, his son standing behind his chair. Newton, Angela, and Jessica. Mr. Banner, Mr. Berty, Shelly Cope.

Everyone has come to support the beloved police chief. They'll be back at the little cemetery before long. Charlie won't survive the week.

Or maybe that's why Alice went back. To do what she could for Charlie...

Alice. Alice was right.

I killed her.

Hours are passing and I wonder what they dressed her in. She didn't own a dress. Only the prom dress.

They didn't bury her in the prom dress.

Alice. Alice would have found her something nice.

She's in the earth now. Her first night there. All alone.

I won't be alive to think of her second. But I'm not comforted. I want her. I need her. I need my Bella.

You promised, Bella. How could you? You promised.

But I promised, too.

What's wrong? Why is she like that?

Because you left. She's not... doing well.

She wasn't doing well. I knew it, just as I knew I would always go back.

Be gentle with my baby. She feels things very deeply.

Soft and sensitive. Drowning all these months.

Drowning where I held her head beneath the sea.

Just one more day. One more hour. One more ordinary hour...

The rain pattered against the windows. Her socks were white except for pale blue around her heel, her toes. Her legs rested on the black leather of the couch. She was warm, snuggled in my gray jacket.

What did you think?

I liked it. Her voice was too high.

I laughed and flitted from my spot on the floor to the stereo.

You'll like this one. I held up a new disc. Something a little more... mainstream.

I feel like you're implying I have no taste. She pouted, pretending to be offended.

I wouldn't dare.

I joined her on the couch, both of her little feet in my lap. Her snowy ankles were satin under my stroking fingertips. I smiled at her uneven heart

She picked up the hardcover book from the small table beside her and flipped it open.

'Happy birthday... Love, Esme,' she read. The little v appeared between her eyebrows. Edward?

Hmm?

When's your birthday?

We don't really celebrate our birthdays. That's just Esme.

When?

June twentieth.

I missed your birthday? Her face clouded over with guilt.

No. I grinned. You were there and it was the best birthday I ever had.

Please! Please... one more hour.

One more smile, one more brush of her lips.

One more memory.

God or devil. Someone hear me!

But they don't. They are indifferent and cruel. Indifferent as the humming ocean. Cruel as the blinding moon.

'What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.'

Goodbye, Bella.

Wait!

Take care of yourself. Take care of yourself, Bella.

Hold cotton to your wounds while you bleed out, Bella.

Goodbye, Bella.

If you think that's the end then you don't know me very well.

I didn't know you very well.

And yet you warned me.

It doesn't matter what you are. It's too late.

I'm too late.

Because Bella threw herself off a cliff two days ago.

'If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas - no wonder my words have been impetuous.'

It takes more than eight minutes for light to travel from the sun to the Earth. The sunlight that pierces my eyes through the grainy water is just a memory.

Like the girl.

Her star was further than the sun, it seems.

Two days away. Two days away and some hours now.

I can see her falling - no angel saves her - and I'm falling, too. Since I hung up the phone. I'm still falling. Endlessly, I'm falling. I want to feel the hard earth, too.

Maybe... maybe if I had been there... I could have... Like Carlisle had for Esme.

Yes. Yes, I would have. I would have. I would have. I would have. I would have had no other choice.

But her blood would have run, saturating the paintbrush of her hair, and I would have gagged on my venom.

'The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God's terrors are marshaled against me.'

My skin sparkles faint diamonds as I pull myself from jewel colored waters. The Italian landscape drips with living pastels.

The trouble is, I always went back.

I never needed Alice to tell me that.

I always went back. I always went back.

Wait! I want to shout at her. Wait! Just a couple more weeks. A couple more days.

A couple more days and I would have been there, easing open your window.

Wait!

'Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut off my life!'

Lucky Job, who belongs to his god. His indifferent, cruel god.

I belong only to the girl.

And the girl is dead.

So I belong to no one.

"Dear God." No sooner had Aro touched my hand than he jerked away from me, scalded.

A/N: Up next... Edward and Aro have a chat. Thank you for reading!