I dreamed. At least, that is what I believed happened. Honestly, it had been so long since I had the ability that I wasn't sure what having one was like. I had heard the minds of others as they dreamed, but that was far from the same thing.
In the dream, I found myself at our home in Forks, standing at the front door. Somehow I knew she was here. I ran, going to my room, the room she would go to first, for it was the best chance at finding me, for her. But when I got there, she wasn't. The room was disturbed, as though someone had been looking for something.
I went room to room, and in every room, there was upheaval, ransacking, displacement, and disappearances. I kept trying to make sense of it, as though by understanding the method to this barely ordered destruction, I might learn why it was happening. And then, I came to the balcony, the spot that I had sat with Alice, trying to come to grips with making Bella a vampire. And that is where I found her body.
Her face was pristine and relaxed, as though she could be asleep, her hair fanned out in a similar regard. But she was dead, gored, opened up by forces the human body was never meant to survive.
No scent hit me. Her blood's allure was entirely gone. She was gone. I would never again hear her laugh, see her tinge to some injustice, turn a phrase to lighten my heart, see her smile, never again tell me that she loved me. Only one thing remained; her thoughts were as silent as ever. Her silence was all that was left to me.
I awoke. It was practically painful. I was overly full. I had gutted myself upon them, full as I was. My reservoir was overflowing, stretched and strained, and I felt as though I might rupture. I went to the bathroom, wishing there was some way to relieve myself, but vampires could only bring up that which their bodies could not process.
I looked in the mirror and felt a part of myself die.
My eyes were red and glowing. But what was more, the line of silver had grown. It was thicker and jagged, a wavering thing that looped my pupil with many peaks of varying heights into my iris, one or two making it to the sclera. I was a monster of a different sort, one who had never been down this road, so depraved that there weren't words for me. True, I hadn't gone back on any moral stance I had taken, and I hadn't done anything I wasn't unwilling to do, but that didn't mean I had done what I wanted or that it had been right.
I found my bag, left in the main room. The girls were still asleep in the bedroom, though this room was still a mess with all that we had done. Furniture was toppled and clothing was strewn about. Everywhere one looked, something was disturbed or broken. I dug through the bag and brought out my contacts. Putting them in felt like a lie rather than the measure of protection I usually felt with them. I realized that that protection had always been a lie, always helping me to avoid the harsh truths I didn't want to face about myself.
Maggie had been right. They all had been. I was refusing to see the truth about what I was doing. What I was willing to do and what I wanted to do were vastly different things. But what I wanted to do was not possible, so all I was left with is what I was willing to do, or, in this case, endure.
I dressed quickly, settling into myself. I could endure this. I could figure out the path that I could abide the best. I would do all that I could to assuage my conscience. I could do this.
I was not going to have a night like that one every night. I couldn't bear it. But only once in a while, when I wanted it… when I would allow it… That could be well. That could be deserved.
I left the suite while it was still dark. I got to the hospital with time to spare. If I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it properly.
I found the nurse at her station, doing her best to sort out the paperwork from the previous shift, having put off dealing with the mess as long as she could. As soon as I caught her eye, I held it.
"I am Doctor Carlisle Cullen, from America," I said in my bespelling voice. "You have thoroughly checked my credentials and know I am a well respected and experienced physician. I am here to interview Paris Vincent to see if he is a candidate for a drug trial in America. We are not to be disturbed."
She nodded dreamily.
I entered his room, and, naturally, found him sitting on one of the spare beds with an orderly, chatting quietly and passing a cigarette back and forth, taking it in turns to blow the smoke into a vent. They both sat up when I entered.
"Out," I commanded the orderly, and out he went. I turned to Paris, and dove headlong into the theoretical.
"Look into my eyes," I said, enthralling him. "Deep. Let me in."
He became still. I found my will pushing into his thoughts, down into his mind, but not for the thoughts themselves. I reached for the substance that his thoughts were cast into, the clay of his recollection and memory. And there, I marked the now, this place where I pushed, deeply and carefully, a spot that I might find again, with ease.
Once established, I pulled my will back into myself and found a spot on the bed across from him.
"Do you know me?" I asked in French.
He stamped out the cigarette and discarded the butt in a folded wet napkin.
"Of course," he said. "You are Lissette's lover."
I closed my eyes. My fangs extended, along with the protracting of my upper and lower jaw, my cheeks hollowing, and my brows beginning to pull into a fiendish look. I opened my eyes again.
His look of horror was a sight to behold. He was terrified and unable to move.
"Do you know me?" I asked again.
"Yes," he barely managed to say.
I nodded, my face pulling back to its usual shape.
"You are going to die," I said. "Your cancer or your lifestyle or both will mean your end."
He nodded in turn.
"I know this," he said. "What of it?"
"Lissette would not see you die," I said. "She would have me save you."
"How?" he asked.
I gave him a dark look. His horror returned.
"You would…" he gasped, "make me like you?"
I said nothing.
"Why?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I am not convinced that I will," I said. "Nor am I convinced that I should. I cannot claim to be all knowing. What does it mean to you if I should do this thing?"
He seemed to think.
"Will it hurt?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "More than you can imagine, lasting days."
He shuddered.
"What will be different about me?" he asked.
"No food," I said. "No drink but blood. No sickness, no disease, no love making."
He shook his head, half jokingly.
"Kill me now," he laughed.
I continued.
"No sleeping, no dreaming," I said. "We stay out of the sun, lest we be seen for what we really are. You will have greater speed and strength. You will no longer age, and you will be beautiful."
He laughed again, "I am already beautiful."
"You will have new instincts," I said. "You will long for blood, at times like a drug. There are not many vampires who can drink from a human in such a way that the human survives."
He shook his head, "I will not be that way."
I gave him a long look.
"I care too much for life," he said. "I could never kill anyone."
I looked down.
"I thought as you do, once," I said. "I was wrong, more than a thousand times over."
Nothing I had said so far scared him nearly as much as this statement did.
"You are only a child," he said. "How could you have killed so many?"
I smirked.
"I was born around the same time as your grandparents," I said. "To me, you are the child."
He thought about it.
"Would you?" he asked. "If you were me, would you do this?"
I looked at him for an even longer time.
"No," I said. "I would not."
He looked at me.
"You do not want to do this," he said. "Then why are you here?"
I was quiet.
"You are doing this for her?" he asked. "Even though it isn't what you want and know to be right."
"Yes," I said. "I would rather not, but I need to find a path that I could stand walking on."
He laughed, "And you call me the child!"
I looked sharply at him and he took a more respectful look.
"You cannot live like that," he said. "It is a loveless way to live, and it will kill you as surely as my cancer."
I shook my head.
"This is what choices I have," I said.
"Why?" he asked directly.
I looked at him.
"Why can you not live the life you want?" he asked. "Who says you can't?"
"Your sister, for one," I muttered.
He looked at me.
"Do you really think that if you refused to do this thing to me that she would leave you?" he asked.
I snorted.
"Why wouldn't she?" I asked. "She has no reason at all to stay."
He blinked at me.
"I am not sure which is sadder," he said. "That she gave you that impression or that you believe it."
He shook his head.
"You know she is tough," he said, "but I do not think you realize how fragile her fragility is. She will rip your nuts off if you look at her the wrong way, but one word can destroy her, if you know the right word."
He pulled out another cigarette, then seemed to remember where he was and put it away.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Not to kill you," I said instantly and he laughed.
"No," he said. "I mean it. No limits or conditions, what do you want?"
I swallowed. I couldn't say Bella. She didn't want me anymore and for good reason. If not her, then…
"I want to be happy," I said. "I want to find my other half. I want to fall in love and spend forever with her. I want to be a better… person."
We shared a private smile.
"And you cannot do this while you are with my sister?" he asked, his tone absent of judgment.
I considered.
"I don't know," I said. "I feel as though it is possible. There is…"
I cast about for half a moment.
"There is something missing," I confessed. "I do not know what it is or how to find it or what to do with it or about it, even if I knew. I know that she is the most important person in my life and that I care more about her than anyone in my world."
He shook his head.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"She?" I asked.
"The other woman," he said.
"What other woman?" I said flatly.
"You are a bad liar," he accused goodnaturedly.
I looked away.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "She doesn't mat-"
My voice caught, and I tried again.
"She isn't in my life anymore," I said definitively.
"By your choice?" he asked.
"By hers," I said, "but I agreed with the decision."
"Of course you did," he said. "Your only other choice was to deny her."
I looked at him. He said what he said sarcastically, as though there was another choice.
"You think I should have stayed?" I asked.
He shook his head, "You have so much to learn about women. You think simply because a woman says something that she means it? Do you have any idea how often a woman says something because she wants you to do the exact opposite?"
He frowned, "I can never go against a woman's desire for herself and her life."
He laughed, "Then you are doomed to never find that love you are so interested in."
I shook my head, "You're wrong."
He chuckled, "Am I? There is a difference between going against what a woman wants and going against what a woman says she wants. The difference is impossible to determine for young men, or immature men. They have too much ego in the way. Take your ego out of it, and you can always understand better."
He looked at me.
"You left," he said. "She told you to go and you did. You ran away instead of staying and taking the harder path towards what you really wanted. You do understand that you are a coward, yes?"
I shook my head.
"No," I said. "That is to say, yes I know I am craven, but no. That isn't what happened. She told me to go."
"It wasn't an ultimatum?" he asked. "Do this or leave?"
I blinked at him, "How could you know that?"
I read his mind. There were well worn groves to this knowledge, experiences hard won from years of failure and learning.
"What was it?" he asked.
I looked away in shame.
"I needed to give up being a murderer," I said.
He actually seemed amused by the idea.
"She sounds completely unreasonable," he said sarcastically. "And did you?"
I sighed.
"I haven't taken a life since then," I said. And then, I realized that I hadn't taken a life since then. I hadn't killed anyone. But was I different? She had said that I needed to change, or be willing to change. Was I? Had I changed?
I knew the answer already. No. If what Paris had said was right, then I had taken the road of least resistance when I left. And I was doing that now, apparently. I was taking the path that I could best live with but was that not the same thing? If I gave in to Lissette and changed her brother, would I not still be doing what was easy and not what I wanted?
I realized something then. I could change. I had the ability to choose one path or the other. I could see the two choices. In one, I agreed, and Paris would be a vampire. Lissette and I would go on. She would not live forever, but we could have centuries together, more than I could ever wish for. Some day the Volturi might track us down and that would be the end, but maybe not. We could have a shot at love. And in the other, I could walk away. I could say no, and risk losing her forever. What would have gained then? I don't know what I could do then. Go back to Forks? Risk seeing Bella moved or moving on? Losing all hope forever with her?
I had no one, but Lissette. She loved me. I would stay. This was to be my hard road. I would not change her brother, but I would stay. I would learn to love her. I would do whatever it took to make it work, in accordance with my will, and no further. She would have to accept that.
I suddenly became aware that I was sitting with Paris and that he was waiting for me to finish my thoughts.
"Sorry," I said.
"No apology necessary," he said. "So, you are no longer a killer. Will you go back?"
"No," I said surely. "I am here with Lissette and I will stay."
"But why?" he asked.
And, something in me seemed to break. It was as though something deep within me finally opened up, and a long buried truth surfaced.
"Because," I said, my heart hurting more than when it was all but ripped from my body, "Lissette is not making demands of me. She doesn't need me to change to love me. She would love me still if I were to kill again. She understands my imperfections and loves me anyway. Bella doesn't."
I stood up.
"Do you want me to make you a vampire?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I would rather have a death I know, than an unlife that I don't."
I nodded.
"I am glad you agree," I said. "I wouldn't force you into something against your will. I think well of you for your decision. I will tell Lissette what I have decided. I hope she decides to remain in town with you until your time."
He laughed, "You don't know my sister very well, do you?"
I smiled.
"Perhaps not," I said, "but I would like to."
He nodded to me.
"Godspeed, my friend," he said. "Remember, no ego. Look and listen, but not to her words. What she isn't saying is often as important as she is."
I nodded in return, "Thank you, Paris."
He smiled, and said in thick English, "My friends call me Perry."
I laughed, and we were friends. I would be sad to see him go. And with that, I reached into his mind. I found the marker that I had laid, and from that moment to this one, I carefully lifted the time, the memories, and our interactions out of his mind. He would only know me as Lissette's doctor boyfriend and no more. He would remember nothing of our time that day. I left him drowsing on the bed and left his room.
I spent the rest of the day in the hospital, avoiding all parts that were open to the sun. I was so full, enthralling everyone who questioned my being there into believing that I was my father was no drain of my reserves at all. It felt good, an easing in me, and not just for using the excess blood within me. I spent the day helping the humans there. I worked as Carlisle frequently did, and while I avoided open and flowing wounds, I was able to do much to help the patients who needed it. By dusk, I was ready. I would tell Lissette what I had decided. I was with her. As long as we could be together, we would be. I was committed to her. But I was not going to change her brother. I was secure in both decisions, and I knew of nothing that would change that.
Nothing, until I sensed it. Sensed her.
She was in the city, not too far from the hospital. I recognized the road she was on and quickly found my way to the side of the road. She spotted me and parked next to me.
"Rosalie," I said. "What are you doing here?"
"Get in," she said, and I did.