It was just after dusk when we went out into the night on the outskirts of Paris.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Garrett smiled at me, "Should I not be asking you that?"

I grinned too.

The months had been hard, stressful, but the correct kind of stressful. I had worked hard, being as honest as I knew how, until I realized how dishonest I was actually being, only to start again. Like waves upon the beach, I worked to change the shore that was myself, one tide at a time.

"I think I am ready," I said, firmly if not with confidence.

Garrett nodded encouragingly, "I will not be far away, should you need me."

"I will do my best," I affirmed.

"And you might fail," said Garrett. "Either way, I am your compatriot and I am with you. If not literally."

We shared a comfortable sideways embrace as we walked down the Quai de Stalingrad, garnering a few speculative looks from a couple of the more intrigued French girls, liking the ease of our physical interaction and wondering what else we might be doing together.

Without much fanfare, we went our separate ways. Garrett was on the hunt, and it was wordlessly agreed upon that since he had no compunctions with murdering humans, it should be done well out of range of my ability to perceive it. As soon as he was out of human perception, I whispered so that only he could hear that he was clear, and he found a roof and began traveling by vampire means. Once he had seen my skill at ascending and descending, he took every opportunity to practice himself and while he was still nowhere near as skilled as I was, he was steadily and continuously improving.

I turned and began my own excursion into the night, but while I would not be hunting, I did have my own game in mind. My night was to be a test, spending time amongst the humans, and doing so without incident. Fortunately for me, my night was actually interrupted.

I was moving along the Seine into the depth of Paris, when I felt something that surprised me. A quiet and clarion mind, still indistinct at this distance, but nonetheless a mind as familiar to me as it was possibly to be.

I found a gap in the humans' collective consciousness and slipped silently into the night, making it to the nearby cafe without a sound that even a vampire could hear.

I hope he is doing well, she was thinking. It has been such a short time apart, to be sure, but it is still the longest I have gone with my boy and the least I have heard from him. Alice was right, I did need some time to myself and this trip has done me a world of good, but it will only ever be second best to family. Oh how I miss Edward! I mustn't dwell, but I do so worry. What I wouldn't give for only a letter, word that he is well.

Alice, oh Alice!

I smiled as I landed behind her chair, the shadow of the corner of the cafe perfect to hide my descent as I touched down. Though light of foot, no one knew my footsteps as well as my vampire mother.

Esme froze, daring not to hope. And, as though we had been doing it for nearly a hundred years, because we had, she stood, knowing I would assist her with her chair, which I did.

With a cry that barely passed for human, she took me into her arms, embracing me with an exuberance that would have injured a human. As for me, it was merely rough and completely welcome.

"Edward," she sang in a whisper, so deep with meaning and care, no ear but ours would be capable of hearing all of its many layers. "My Edward."

I smiled and held her in return.

"Hello, Mom," I said, and her joy was redoubled as only Esme's could be.

It was minutes before I could no longer allow the embrace to continue. We were in public and the motionlessness of our sustained affection that could have continued indefinitely was starting to gain the attention of the humans around us. As we broke, she returned to her seat, again with my assistance, before taking one of my own at her gestured direction.

"My son," she said with reverence as she quickly rolled up the schematics for one of the homes she was restoring. I knew from her thoughts that it was a gift for Rose and Emmett when they would be married once again during this incarnation of ourselves. Though, I wasn't sure if we were still the same people as we had been before. For all I knew, when I left them, they were forced to start anew again. For a long moment, I let the fear and worry how much pain that would have caused Rose crush me. I worried what it would cost me and how much work and struggle I must endure to put things right. And then, like the sky opening up and the clouds letting the sun glimpse through, I realized that what I was imagining was not true. I had no proof that they had had to surrender their current identities, and everything I had been fearing was simply a problem I had been creating inside my own head. It wasn't real.

I looked at my mother. Her eyes shown, even behind the contacts she wore that hid the smokey quartz of her irises. She was smiling at me, drinking in every detail of my face. So enraptured was she that she didn't fully register my expression. Looking more at me, she began to realize that some of the weight she was used to seeing upon me was lifted. I smiled at her, and it went deeper than she expected it to. I looked happy, if relatively so.

She smiled and her happiness for me overflowed her, and where I once would have endured it as a burden that I willfully took up for someone that I loved, this time, I stood within her joy without shying from it. This, of course, only served to cause her more pleasure, and before long, I had to move my chair beside hers and hold her, for elsewise, her response to me would have been more than a human body would have been capable of.

She clung to me, stroking my face, and I sat beside her, embracing her. To many who passed us by, we appeared to be long separated lovers, if a bit tame for Paris. We appeared too close in age to be mother and son. She was born only six years before my birth, and while I became a vampire only a few years before her, our difference in apparent age is only about nine years. The clothing she had brought with her had aged her up, as did the style of her hair, but so did mine. I might have been taken aback by others' assumptions about us, but not that day.

"You look so happy," she cried, if not literally. "Tell me, my son, what has happened to you?"

I smiled and while I pulled somewhat back from her, it was not far. Neither of us wanted that.

"What do you know about what I have been doing?" I asked.

She smiled, Assume that I know nothing.

I grinned too.

Turning, I waved my hand to the waiter as he approached, somewhat surprised that my mother had a guest. Quickly, I ordered a coffee and asked him to top off my mother's tea in flowing French. He was a bit confused because not only had I called Emse my mother, but her French had an American accent and mine was more muddled, though predominantly British. He tsked in his own head though graciously took in the order and gave the impression that he was greatly appreciative of us speaking to him in the greatest language to ever grace the world. I returned to Esme.

"I have been traveling with Garrett," I said. "We have been spending our days helping me see the world better."

"How so?" she inquired, sipping her tea. She knew that she would have to bring it back up later, and while most of our kind found the idea uncomfortable and distasteful, Esme had acquired a taste for this little act of camouflage. I fully intended to find ways around actually drinking my brew.

I bowed my head, almost bashfully, but in truth, it was for the idiot that was myself, less of late but far from completely cured of his idiocy.

"I have been facing my own ignorance," I explained, "facing it without denial, accepting it truly for what it is. I have been seeing the ways in which I am wrong, not simply acknowledging them for the sake of social graces and moving on, but comprehending them and seeking to understand them and working toward making more informed decisions."

Informed freewill and unbiased choice, she thought. We should all be so lucky!

I squeezed her hand.

"It isn't easy," I said. "I have spent so much of my life armored in ignorance, for it felt safer than the alternative. Now, I have stripped that armor away, opening all the old wounds and exposing sensitive flesh that armor protected. I have cast down all the defensive mechanisms that I used to keep me from feeling worthless and hopeless."

She looked very taken aback, for Esme. Anyone who didn't know her would have said she was slightly surprised. The horror that filled her mind was taxing to both of us.

But without those mechanisms,she thought, what is to keep you from being overwhelmed by the pains of the world?

Again I squeezed her hand.

"I say that to explain why what I do is so hard," I explained. "But I have no regrets. I have been learning so much about myself, learning about the old lies I have always told myself in order to cope. One new discovery; I have this way of interchanging ideas, something that we all do. I believe that having value means getting the things that I want. So, if I get the things that I want, it means that I have value."

"And not getting them means you are unworthy of love," she concluded, solemnly.

I nodded.

"It is a lie," I said, "a very old one that I have been telling myself for longer than I can remember. And it is one of many that I have been learning to unlearn."

She nodded, "So you are giving up what you once believed would make you happy in exchange for learning your worth and true value."

I smiled, "Yes. It is a troublesome endeavour. Giving up what I believed I wanted is hard. I understand that it is a lie but that doesn't mean that it feels like one. It feels, on occasion, like I am truly giving up the last drops of happiness I will ever find because I have to prove my worth."

It was her turn to squeeze my hand.

You needn't prove anything to me, my son. Not ever.

For a moment, I didn't know what I felt, how to react. Garrett had told me this many times, often without words, and believing him was easy. After all, if he lied or perhaps changed his mind, what had I lost? Really, he was but a companion that had done right by me, but we had been deeply acquainted for less than a year. In the end, the loss of him would not pain me terribly for very long.

But this, this was my mother. She had said these words to me more times than I could truly recall. She believed it, of that I had no doubt. But she didn't know me. She could not see into my mind with the clarity that I could see into hers, and because of that, she only knew what I cared to tell her. It was only logical to keep back every aspect of myself that I would believe would result in her turning from me. It felt almost impossible to trust her while the possibility of her rejection loomed above me.

However, in that moment, the first time she thought those words to me since I had begun the journey with Garrett, I saw that I had a choice. I could withdraw as I always had, if not in word, be agreeable and nod and smile falsely. Or, I could believe her. I could feel scared at the notion that all the love she bore me would be removed if she truly knew me and yet, could accept it and take heart in it in any case. My mother loved me, and for the first time in my life, I was willing to have faith that it was true, no matter how much it scared me.

I smiled, and Esme froze. She looked at me, her eyes going wide as they had done before, but this time, her horror had turned to awed joy. She could see my fear and my sincerity in my eyes, and, being her, understood exactly what it meant.

She laughed.

"Who are you?" she asked playfully. "Where has my son gone off to?"

I smiled, humbly and with humility.

"I am waking up," I said. "For the first time."

Something slipped through her mind. It was but a fraction of an instant or arrant thought, but I heard it.

I wonder if he will go back to her.

I felt my mood momentarily sour, and naturally, my mother noticed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I really didn't wish to bring up anything painful for you. I…"

She broke, taking her eyes from me for the first time since I had arrived.

"I just want you to be happy," she concluded.

I took my time, gathering the feelings I felt to me, feeling each in turn as I beheld them. Joy, calm, longing, fear, pain, regret, remorse, disappointment, sadness, care. They were all feelings that belonged to me, but they were not as indelible as I had once believed. They were not me, and discounting them did not discount me. I was no less without any of them, and I could let them go.

So, I did. As Esme returned her gaze to my face and saw not a trace of any pain there, she shook her head in wonderment.

"You have changed my son," she said, then thought, It is quite remarkable. I look forward to learning more about the new you.

I sighed, as I often did around humans, just as the waiter returned. His thoughts of my mother's appeal and whether I might mind him as a "new daddy" were repugnant and garnered a glare from me. He backpedaled and graciously asked if there was anything else we needed. I was halfway tempted to play the hot headed young man I appeared to be, but that would only serve to embarrass Esme. I settled for a pointed look and a rebuke disguised as a negation, light enough that we could all ignore it socially while still making my point.

Still as obstinately protective as ever, thought Esme, sipping tea around a smile.

I rolled my eyes and feigned sipping my own beverage.

"It has been hard work," I said, "but worth it. It is hard to put into words."

She sat patiently, her simple gaze letting me know without the need to read her mind that she was quite willing to wait.

I paused, doing something that I had practiced but was not exactly gifted at yet. I relaxed into my body.

I had come to learn that I had spent a majority of my time caring about thoughts. After all, I occupied the minds of others as readily as I entered my own, but there, I had found a haven, a protected solitude that I hadn't ever found in reality. I could hide in my own imagination, concocting fanciful environs that left me distracted from any pain or hardships that I might be facing in my life. The same could be said about my escapes into the minds of others, though while I couldn't control their thoughts, I had all the power in those communications, for often they had no idea that they were communicating to me at all. I was powerful and safe and in control inside my own head and the heads of those around me. And, I had been completely unaware that I had been doing this.

Now, I relaxed out of my thoughts. A tension that I hadn't even been aware of relaxed out of my shoulders as well. I became concerned totally with the present, the here and now, my thoughts and the thoughts of others drifting away. I had a body that mattered as well as feelings that existed there. They mattered as much as thought, but I had little skill in recognizing the finer points of the lesser emotions. Still, I tried.

"I don't believe you when you say that I matter to you, no matter what," I said, a surety entering my words that brook no argument. "I have been spending my entire life believing that my skills, my abilities, and what I could bring to our family were the only things about me that gave me value. Without them, I believed I would have no place with you. Even now, I want to state my work and my failures in a way that makes me seem courageous and exceptional, if only to minimize your opportunity to reject me. I use fancy words, and many of them, in hopes that you will cleave to me and think well of me."

I took a deep breath, "In truth, I am scared of losing you. I believe the lie that without you, I will never be loved."

She stared at me for a long moment. I felt tense, raw, vulnerable, and unsure. Then, she reached out a hand and slowly, kindly, cupped my face.

I was scared, but I was also grateful. I wasn't alone, and my fears did not make me selfish, childish, or pitiable.

You are loved.

I spent the evening with my mother. I continued to feign drinking and she drank her tea. We talked about architecture, music, philosophy, a little psychology, a few recent novels, and how our experiences in Paris had been so far.

"So," she finally asked, "have you given any thought about coming home?"

I considered her words, "Yes, lots. But I am not ready."

She nodded, "We are ready to receive you, when you are."

"Not all of you are," I commented under my breath.

She gave me a sideways look, "Rose misses you. I can tell."

"How?" I asked before I could stop myself. "By complaining?"

She smiled, "Yes."

I looked at her spetically.

"She complains that it is taking you so long to come home," she said.

I snorted and rolled my eyes.

"And somehow makes it all about her?" I inquired.

"Naturally," said Esme. "But her points remain."

"What points?" I asked.

There was a flash, just a moment of it, but it was enough.

"No!" I protested, almost loud enough to catch the attention of those around us.

I had stood, and Esme caught my arm.

"Edward," she said, her voice forlorn, pleading.

The story was in place. I had gone to rehab. I had been addicted to drugs. Knowing Alice as I did, my dealer would have been the one that hurt Mike Newton. I was almost certain that she would have come up with something to explain Bella's injury in Phoenix as well. There was an outside chance that she had actually lined up said dealer to confess, probably paying for a medical treatment for a family member or the like. Everything would be in place, for me to return, and for us to go back.

"I can't go back," I protested, but this time, I kept my voice low.

"We aren't suggesting that you have to," said Emse, "but we are keeping that option open."

"I cannot believe that is an option," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because," I said, my voice brittle, "if I do, then I will take the option. It is too tempting not to. But if I do and she still says no…"

It ripped me open. I didn't think admitting that aloud would hurt so badly, but it did.

"Being with Bella," I said hollowly, "is still the thing that I want most in the world. But, that doesn't matter. She doesn't want me in her life, and no matter how much I change, there is no guarantee that she will ever be willing to have me back."

Esme took my hand, "Edward, no one has that guarantee. Even committed marriages fail. She made a choice-"

"Please," I said, feeling as though my insides had become living things onto themselves, and were as desperate to wiggle themselves free as I was to stop having this conversation.

"I can't," I said. "I am not ready to even think about considering this."

Esme nodded.

I wonder, she thought, what might happen if-

She stopped her thought there, and I didn't want to know where it went from there.

"I am doing well," I said. "I will keep learning and keep working, but I am not ready to come back, and when I do, I will decide then if Forks is an option for me."

She nodded, "Okay, son. Okay."

She didn't press, and I loved her for it. No, I would have loved her for it even if she had pressed.

"Alice said that I need to finish my business by tomorrow," she said, "that I would be needed at home."

I nodded, "Alice."

"Alice," she said with a smile, where I had said it with annoyance, as was my way. She knew, no doubt, that I would have met Esme here. She also must know that us meeting here would have been bad had it lasted longer. I had no idea why, because she wasn't here. She was keeping away from me. Why? Was it for my sake?

I kissed my mother's cheek.

"I will write," I said, paying for the drinks.

She beamed at me, "I love you, my son."

"Love you, mom," I said.

I turned and headed out into the night, hopeful, and yet, wondering if I would ever be brave enough to return to… Forks.