Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Here's a FAGE 13 story for Agoodwitch. (She not only has a cool username, she also gave some really cool prompts!) It's been... ah, a while. Writing has been so hard this past year! But I'm very thankful to FAGE for giving me the push I needed! Here are the prompts I used: (i) images. app. goo. gl / TRhwUf6XnJqyaeT38 (remove the spaces, etc.) and (ii) "He watched her walk away and felt a moments panic."
Huge thanks to my pre-readers/beta readers, sri ffn and purpleC305. You make everything better!
I hope you enjoy the story, Agoodwitch!
If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the Facebook Group Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps, or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.
Chapter 1
Edward was lost.
The cobbles underfoot seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, but there was no moon tonight, was there? He couldn't look up to make sure. Couldn't focus on anything but the urge to place one foot in front of the other, moving... The sense of foreboding crept up on him gradually, as some part of his mind told him that he should stumble... why was the paving so smooth?
The houses were a vague blur of grey, the world leached of color, the flower boxes bereft of blooms. He hadn't meant to come here, but now he couldn't stop. Each step in time with his still strangely steady heartbeat, each beat louder than the last. There was no other sound, no breeze, no life here... just him.
His feet slowed and then stopped entirely, mind empty of the chaotic thoughts from just a moment before. Between two blinks, the inky shadows between two buildings...houses? Shops? He couldn't bring himself to focus on them long enough to be sure... resolved into a door. The longer he stared, the more real it appeared, and the louder his instinct screamed at him to run.
He stayed.
He knew instinctively, this was it.
The click of the door opening should have been loud in the stillness, but it seemed muffled, as if the sound was coming from far, far away.
A sudden breeze brought the scent of wild roses, and suddenly he could see the vines that grew along the columns that flanked the door. When had those appeared? He almost laughed hysterically as he felt the magic winding through him, brushing aside his thought before it could take root.
Then the door was open and he could almost see the way the shadows stretched lazily towards him, wrapping around his limbs, drawing him in, flickering over and inside, a shocking intrusion that flirted with his thoughts and body, and...
He forgot whatever it was he was thinking.
She stood in shadow, and was the brightest light he had ever seen. The curve of her lips, the slightly feline slant of her eyes, the way she tilted her head slightly in an almost shy invitation... it was familiar. It was like coming home.
The stranger beckoned and he froze. Against the tug of his body's desire, he took a step back, and another. With a smile, she followed. The moonlight (or was it a street lamp?) shone out through the haze that wrapped lovingly around their bodies, highlighting the deep mahogany of her hair.
She stepped closer, and sudden panic bloomed. He tried to move, and found that he couldn't so much as twitch a finger. Her eyes gleamed, and she seemed to loom over him. Their lips touched.
…
He sat up with a gasp, breathing hard, shivering in the chill of the night. Looking around frantically, it took him a moment to recognize the familiar surroundings... his bed. His desk. His room. He was soaked in sweat. He was alone.
Suddenly incapable of holding himself up, he flopped back onto his pillows, breathing through the disorientation. A dream. Not real.
A wave of relief or disappointment, or... something swept over him in a sudden rush, and his eyelids drooped. His mind was a swirl of shadow as he fell into a dreamless sleep.
...
He woke up feeling out of sorts, though he couldn't say why. He got through work on autopilot. He ate, spoke to people, and put up a sufficiently convincing show of being the same man he had been the day before. He didn't quite know how to classify all the things he was feeling. It had just been a dream, after all. Why was he even feeling anything? He didn't have time for that rubbish.
The only time he felt close to normal was when he went to the hospital for his daily visit with Esme. She was still frail, and the doctors still couldn't say exactly what was wrong with her. Her bruises had faded, and there were no more visible injuries, but every time she was discharged from hospital she collapsed within a day. Edward would probably never tire of cursing her husband for treating her the way he had, but it gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction to know that at least in death the man's money was helping Esme. It was only fitting that the fucker paid for what he'd done to her.
"Edward!" Her smile was as bright as ever, even though he could see the strain around her eyes. It hadn't been a good day, then.
"Did you miss me?" he teased, coming to sit beside the hospital bed and reaching out to play with her fingers. She laughed and swatted weakly at him.
"You don't give me much time to miss you, do you?" she sighed, then mumbled, "I was bored though. I didn't feel so good today."
Edward immediately knew things were truly bad. She'd always try to put on her brave face for him. But today...
"I'll take the day off tomorrow, then," he decided, kissing her fingers. He hardly ever took a day off. It wouldn't be a problem.
"No, don't do that. I'll be better tomorrow. It's just..." she trailed off, looking uncharacteristically wistful.
Before he could ask her about it, there was a brief knock at the door.
"Hi, I'm Dr Carlisle Cullen," the tall, blond man nodded at Edward, before turning to smile warmly at Esme, who was... blushing. "How was your day, Mrs Platt? I had asked the nurses to let me know if you needed anything, but they never came for me. So either you had a really good day, or you were trying not to tell us about your pain."
Edward watched in horrified fascination as the handsome doctor stepped closer to check on her charts. Esme was practically glowing, in a slightly sickly way. Oh no. Then Dr Cullen looked up from the charts and caught her eye, and smiled at her again. Edward wanted to throw up, because he really hadn't expected to be hit in the face with his adoptive sister flirting with the new hot doctor. Or the other way round. It was just more than his brain could handle at the moment.
Thankfully, the doctor did seem to be competent, with an excellent bedside manner. He probably had other patients to check on, but he gave Esme his complete attention, which was strangely soothing for Edward as well. It was probably just ten minutes, but at the end of it Edward was relieved to see Esme looking more relaxed and settled than before. He had planned to stay longer, but seeing her already calm and drowsy, he kissed her hand once more and promised to visit early the next day.
"Don't take the day off," she whispered sternly, before squeezing his hand.
"We will see," Edward said. "I'll talk to the doctor and ask him what he thinks, ok? If he says I can come and spend more time with you then I will. You can't go against doctor's orders!"
He slipped out of the room with her weak but happy laughter echoing in his ears. Doctor Cullen was waiting for him outside.
"I just have a couple more patients to check on," he said without preamble. "Do you have time for a coffee? I'd like to talk about Mrs Platt. More specifically, does she know someone called Bella?"
