A/N: Back yet again. I read over this chapter last week, but since the writing was rougher than I remembered, plus it felt like I had about a hundred other things I was trying to get done, I decided to delay it by a week.

It's been one of the busiest writing months I've had in a long time, getting some work done on projects both old and new. Consequently, my brain has been immersed in the philosophies and challenges of writing in general. Sometimes it can be painful to look back on old writing that represented your best effort at the time, but mostly I feel encouraged to be able to track certain ways my writing has improved over the long haul, even if in the short-term it often feels like the quality is constantly fluctuating.

Thanks so much for reading so far! Hope you'll enjoy this next chapter, and see you at the end!

Edit July 2021: In the original version of this chapter, Jessamine goes along with Edythe and Eleanor on their hunting trip, which is where Edythe has the conversation about human blood she tells Beau about in the meadow later. I ended up having to cut it out since there was a detail I'd missed that made it inaccurate, but slightly more on that at the end.

Chapter 7: Harmony

When I got back to school, the final hour wasn't quite up yet, so I waited out in my car. I was glad of the time to think.

His scent lingered. I kept the windows up, letting it torch my throat and lungs, trying to get used to it.

I probably should have been contemplating my last guilty act—my latest step down the road to hell—but instead I found my thoughts going back to that look he had given me in the car, when he was apparently trying to decide if I had the potential to be frightening or not.

I thought of Mr. Cope, and even Jeremy. Physical attraction. Or—what was that word McKayla had used? 'Into'? Was he into me?

I didn't know. In that moment in the car, I had felt almost certain of it, but now I wasn't so sure. There were times when he was around me his heart rate seemed to speed up, or his face went blank the way Mr. Cope's had. But those physical signs could just as easily be caused by fear or shock as attraction. Consequently, a comparison to Mr. Cope or Jeremy was inconclusive.

It was hard to imagine Beau having the kind of fantasies about me Jeremy used to have—he knew I wasn't normal, and based on what he had said, seemed to suspect that I wasn't even human. When I had touched his hand that time in the Biology room, he had felt how cold it was, and he had immediately jerked away. And when I had helped him to the infirmary just today, he must have felt the icy chill of my body, how hard, how inhuman it was. No, I couldn't imagine him having any kind of fantasies like those.

My mouth twisted as thinking about Jeremy brought back a few of his most-often reoccurring daydreams. There were definitely times a photographic memory was anything but a blessing. Even some of the more harmless, less graphic thoughts made me grimace with distaste.

However, as a few flickered unwillingly through my mind, they shifted. In the fantasies, Jeremy's face became Beau's instead. Instead of being in Jeremy's mind, I was seeing myself in Beau's mind—staring straight at me, just like in the car, only more intense. Beau, imagining himself wrapping his arms around my waist, me letting him pull me against his chest. Cupping his hand around my face as my arms wound around his neck, my fingers twisting in his hair. Him, leaning down until I could feel the heat of his breath on my slightly parted lips...

I was breathing too fast, feeling his scent saw up and down my throat, and there the daydream suddenly halted. I gripped the armrest on the car door. I knew exactly what would happen if that happened—If I allowed myself to get that close.

What exactly was I doing? Did I really want him to be attracted to me—attracted to me, when I couldn't even get close to him? When I could give him nothing? I would drive him to madness.

I bowed my head, burying my face in my hands. What I was doing was so wrong. Unforgivable. I should have died back in 1918, rather than exist now to do nothing but torment a perfectly good boy. He deserved to have a normal life, with a normal girl. To enjoy all the things a human life had to offer.

I pulled my hands slowly away from my face, and I stared down at them. I suddenly hated them, hated what I was—I hated that I was cold and hard as stone, I hated the strength and the burning thirst for human blood. I hated that I wasn't human—when, at this moment, I didn't think I had ever felt more human in my life.

The passenger door suddenly opened with a click, and I jerked in my seat, startled.

Eleanor laughed as she slid inside. Wow. Never caught you by surprise before, this must be a first.

I shrugged, trying to compose myself.

"You know, you've been so erratic lately I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Goff thinks you're on diet pills. Where were you today?"

I shrugged, looking away. "Nowhere. I was just doing a good deed. Caring for the sick."

Eleanor paused, opening her mouth to ask what I was going on about, but as she inhaled she caught the scent.

"Oh," she said, understanding washing across her face. "That boy again. You actually had him in the car? Wasn't that tough on you? Or are you over it, now that you're so in love with him and all?"

I sighed and looked away, mouth pressing into a thin line.

Eleanor inhaled again, deeply, testing the scent. "Huh," she said. "I sort of see the appeal. Interesting flavor, isn't it—Yo girl, easy there."

I was glaring at her, my lips curled back from my teeth.

She eyed me warily. Calm down, I was just saying. It was a compliment.

I breathed deeply through my nose and turned away from her, trying to get my temper under control. Being so touchy wasn't going to help my cause, or reassure them I was capable of rational thought.

The others arrived. Royal immediately noticed the foreign scent and his lip curled back from his teeth in disgust. He glared at the back of my head as he slid into the backseat. He always seemed to be in a bad mood these days.

I was more worried about Jessamine's reaction. She tasted the air as she got into the car and, like Eleanor, noticed the appeal of the scent. I didn't like Eleanor or Jessamine thinking along those lines. Even if he didn't have a thousandth of the appeal to them he did to me, it was disturbing. Jessamine's control was not the best. Even though I knew I was being overly paranoid, maybe even slightly psychotic, I was suddenly even more uneasy at the idea of leaving for the weekend.

Archie loped up to the car to the driver's side door, and held out his hand. For the truck key, of course.

"I only saw that I was," he said. "You'll have to give us the whole story later."

"This doesn't mean—" I began, suddenly worried, but he cut me off.

"I know, don't blow a gasket. But it'll be soon, trust me."

I grumbled and handed over the key.

I followed him on to Beau's house. The old truck wasn't particularly fast, and I could hear Archie mentally grumbling complaints the whole way.

When we arrived, I looked to Beau's bedroom window to see if he would come to see us—but the rain was pounding down like a million tiny hammers, so perhaps he didn't hear the roar of the truck engine. Of course, he might not have even been in the house at all—I wouldn't have been able to tell. There were no thoughts to hear.

Archie got in the back and we made for home. As there were no cars around, I didn't bother with speed limits, and the drive took barely a few minutes. As we all headed inside the house, we split up to go about our usual activities.

Eleanor and Jessamine went to resume their complicated game of chess, which involved eight joined boards and their own elaborate rules. I'd played with them both a couple of times before they banned me permanently—in strategy games, it turned out mind-reading was just a bit of an unfair advantage, and so only Archie would play games with me anymore.

Archie, meanwhile, headed straight to his computer around the corner from them, and I heard the monitors sing to life. He always had quite a few projects going at once, which reflected his broad span of interests. He had a penchant for art and particularly clothing design, though today he decided to put in some work on the software for a new action video game he was designing, Jessamine naturally being the inspiration for the main fighter. Though after a minute, he couldn't resist popping his head around the corner, and mouthing Eleanor's moves for Jessamine's benefit.

Royal was still in a bad mood, and didn't seem to know what he wanted to do. He paced beside the sofa in front of the television, and I heard him mentally debating whether to go out and tune his BMW again.

I already knew what I was going to do.

I slowly approached the grand piano, stationed off the entryway. I ran my fingers lightly over the smooth wood, then lowered myself onto the bench, pulling back the cover over the keys.

It had been so long since I'd touched the piano. For a while it had been one of my favorite pastimes, but I had fallen out of the habit. Carefully, I touched the keys, then ran my fingers up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still as perfect as the day Earnest had bought it for me.

Earnest, who had been upstairs going over some blueprints, paused, cocking his head.

I began to play out the notes I had started to work out in my mind in the car today, and I was surprised when the sound came out better than I'd expected.

I sensed when Earnest got up from his desk, and silently came to stand at the head of the stairs, listening to me play.

I added a harmonizing line to the initial tune, letting the central melody weave through it.

She's playing again, thought Earnest with jubilation. And a new song. How long has it been?

New notes were coming to me more smoothly now. I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.

I sensed when Royal stopped pacing and turned to glare at me as he realized I wasn't just playing, but composing a new piece entirely. He felt the intended emotions of the lilting music. Fervor, excitement, tempered with an undeniable gentleness. Warmth—love.

In that moment, he slipped, and I read all his underlying irritation—the real reason all this had been so getting under his skin.

The music came to an abrupt halt, and a short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I had to cover my mouth with my hand, though my shoulders continued to twitch with suppressed amusement.

Royal's scowl was ferocious, and he probably would have made a human wilt on the spot. Royal was never more dangerous than when he was feeling humiliated.

Eleanor and Jessamine paused and looked around, while Earnest descended the stairs, frowning, looking concerned. There was a long, strained moment.

"Don't stop, Edythe," Earnest encouraged me at last.

I did as he asked and started playing again, turning my back on Royal and trying to hold back the laughter that was trying to force its way up my throat.

Royal glared ferociously at the back of my head, his mind full of silent threats, then turned and stalked wordlessly from the room.

I couldn't stop myself smiling again. There was probably no one more consumed with himself than my brother Royal. He was vain as a peacock, and I knew from the moment we first met that my complete and utter lack of interest in his perfection had aggravated him to no end. But, seeing I was interested in no one, he had eventually gotten over it.

Now, though. My inexplicable attraction to an ordinary human—his ego was more than a little bruised. So that was the real reason he seemed to harbor such a strange, intense dislike toward Beau.

"What's wrong, Roy?" Eleanor called after him, mystified. Royal ignored her, still seething and burning from humiliation, as he headed straight to the garage and slid himself under his car as if he could bury himself in the work and push little irritating me from his mind.

"What was that about?" Eleanor asked, frowning as she turned back to me.

I shrugged. "Who knows?"

Eleanor grumbled, and she knew I was lying.

"Keep playing, Edythe," Earnest urged softly. My hands had paused again.

I started up again, adding another line with a slightly more cheerful timber, still smiling to myself.

However, as my fingers continued to move experimentally over the keys, trying to find a bridge to make the song feel more complete, my amusement faded.

It had been a strange day—I had probably had more interaction with Beau today than all other times combined. And the way he had looked at me in the car...

Hadn't I been wondering if he was physically attracted to me? To the unnatural beauty given to me by this immortal life? A part of me had been thrilled at the thought—that he was attracted to me in a way he was not attracted to McKayla, or Erica, or any of the other girls that were my rivals.

But if that was what I was going to rely on, if that was my one advantage over the rest, how was I any different from Royal? How was I any less vain—thinking I could use my appearance to have whatever I wanted?

Royal's life was living proof that sometimes beauty and good looks were the worst curse of all—it drew in shallow people concerned with nothing but outward appearance like flies.

My attempt at writing the bridge wandered, and the tone of the notes of my experiment turned more subdued.

I didn't believe Beau was shallow, far from it. But he was still a teenage boy subject to his hormones, and any attraction he felt toward me was simply that—hormones. It was nothing deep, nothing particularly binding. It wasn't love.

My hands flashing across the keys picked up again, still with a somber undertone, but with a bright spot, a touch of hope. Would it be possible for him to get to know me—to see the me beyond the way I looked?

But what was there for him to learn about me? I was a vampire. I drank blood. How could he ever relate to that?

The music, I reminded myself. We both liked Debussy. That could be a start.

My fingers started moving faster over the keys, the attempted harmony going faster and faster, until it was a wandering, dizzying maze of restlessness and excitement.

I suddenly wanted to talk to him again. I wanted another long conversation, just like today. I wanted to ask him more questions, but what was more, I longed to answer more of his questions. I wanted him to know the real me, not my human facade. Even the things I was most terrified at the thought of him knowing, a part of me suddenly wanted him to know—to know all the ugliness behind the pretty face, to know all the sacrifices he would have to make, the limitations of choosing me, and still accept me in spite of it all. Choose me, even being what I was, over any of the others.

It was an impossible thing to long for—unrealistic, unfair to even entertain. But, strangely, there was some release in the thought, of his knowing the truth about me. Knowing everything about me, all my darkest secrets. Better to be rejected as the monster I was than accepted based on a lie, on a false superhero fantasy.

I felt tremendous strength at this thought, at the thought of telling the truth—I knew it would free me, one way or another, and in spite of the crippling wave of despair that crashed over me at the thought of his rejection, his horror and revulsion, I felt a sudden, fierce surge of hope, too.

The fast, agitated notes clearly didn't fit the gentle melody of the song, and my hands slowed, trying something quieter, softer, yet still bold in their essence.

"Very lovely," Earnest murmured. "Have you chosen a name?"

"Not yet," I answered, my concentration still on the bridge.

"Is there a story to it?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

I paused as the bridge suddenly came together all at once. It led me onto the next movement with ease. "I think..." I said slowly, as I worked to understand the subconscious workings of my inspiration. "I think it's a lullaby."

Earnest's face flickered with surprise, then settled again into a warm smile. "I see," he said quietly. "That's wonderful, Edythe."

I didn't have to say anything else. He knew the story of this song, who it was about, who it was for—after all, there was no such thing as a lullaby for a vampire.

My hands flew across the keys now, adding another line to the harmony as I worked to pull all the pieces together. I made a few modifications here and there, turning it in a new direction.

I hadn't noticed Archie had come to stand behind me until his perfectly pitched, tenor voice joined in, wordless, rising high above the melody.

The notes of the song rose higher as they raced toward the climax, and Archie's voice rose to match it. Higher and higher we rose—and suddenly I saw how the song would end. Softly, sadly. I saw in my mind's eye how Beau looked when he was sleeping, his chest slowly rising and falling, his face peaceful. That was going to end, one way or another—either in death, or with a new life where he would never sleep again. And when it did end, it could be called nothing but a tragedy.

The song slowed, lower now, subdued, until it faded to nothing, and I hit the final note, which was barely a whisper.

I folded my hands together and bent my head over the keys.

Earnest put a hand on my shoulder, gripping it tightly. It will all work out the way it's supposed to, Edythe. You will find happiness. No one deserves it more than you.

I stared down at the keys. I couldn't answer. Shame and guilt and despair all swirled inside me. I loved Earnest—loved him for loving me like his own daughter, loving me through anything I might do, any mistake I might make. But he was wrong. How could I deserve happiness, when I was willing to risk someone else's happiness to gain it?

I felt someone poke me in the back.

"Hey," Archie said. "Let's do requests. I pick 'Chopsticks.'"

I couldn't help but laugh, and I was tugged from my dark mood—at least for the moment. My moods seemed to turn on a dime these days, swinging wildly from one extreme to the other, absolute despair to feverish ecstasy and back. It was hard to stay rational under the onslaught of such powerful, extreme emotions. Was this how human teenagers always felt?

As he'd asked, I put two fingers to the keys, and started in on Chopsticks.

My fingers were a blur over the keys as I played the song at an inhuman speed, while Archie sung in a wordless deep base in accompaniment. However, he suddenly cut off in a slight gasp.

"Oh, hey," he said, turning in the direction of Eleanor and Jessamine, still playing their game of chess. "Guess what, Jess."

I'd seen what he had just seen, and my hands froze on the keys.

Jessamine looked over at him. "What?" she asked slowly, curiously.

Archie grinned back. "Patricia and Charles are stopping by for a visit next week. That'll be something, won't it?"

Jessamine paused, then smiled a little.

However, Earnest felt the sudden rigid tension in my shoulder, and he looked down at me in concern. "Something wrong, Edythe?" he asked.

I stared straight ahead, at the empty wood where sheet music normally went. "They're... coming to Forks?" I said in a low voice.

Archie rolled his eyes. "Get a grip, Edy. It's not like this is their first visit."

I glared at the wood in front of me. No, it wasn't. But it would be their first time dropping by since Beau had come. And today proved his blood didn't appeal to just me...

Archie had leaned over to watch my expression, his arms folded. He may not have been able to read minds, but he could see exactly what I was thinking.

"You know they never hunt here," he pointed out.

Patricia and Charles were a gentle pair, as far as our kind went. They only wanted to live in peace, away from the vicious land wars of the south. Patricia was like a sister to Jessamine, and she and Charles were grateful to Jessamine for allowing them to escape their old life. However, they were not like us—they were vampires who hunted in the usual way.

My fingers slowly curled into fists on the keys. So long as they were here, Beau was not safe.

"When?" I asked in a rasp.

Archie frowned, staring at me not unlike Eleanor often stared at me these days, like I'd completely lost my mind. Monday morning, he answered. Not like it matters. You're freaking out over nothing.

I didn't answer. Instead I called, "Eleanor?"

"Yeah?" She looked around at me curiously.

"You ready to go?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I thought we were leaving tomorrow morning. Didn't you just eat last night?" She eyed my deep gold eyes.

"Change of plans," I said. "We're coming back by midnight Sunday. So we should probably leave a bit early."

Eleanor stared for a second, then shrugged. "Fine by me. I'll tell Roy."

I nodded. With the mood Royal was in, it would probably be a fairly brief farewell.

As Eleanor went, Earnest turned back to me and said, "Play the new song one more time, would you, Edythe?"

"Sure," I answered, putting my fingers on the keys—though truthfully I was hesitant to play it again, and follow the course of the music all the way to its unavoidable conclusion. Soft beauty and magic that came to an end in tragedy.

I paused for a moment, then found myself reaching into my pocket, and I withdrew the small bottle cap. My memento of one of our first real conversations, where I learned more about him, and first steps were taken for him to learn about me...

I pressed the cap briefly to my lips, then set it on the empty music stand.

My eyes on the tiny cap, I began to play.

Archie and Earnest exchanged a glance behind my back, but neither one asked.

"Someone should really tell her not to play with her food," I murmured to myself.

I sat on a stone slab on a precipice overlooking a patch of forest. There was a small clearing just below the cliff, and Eleanor was there—trying to enrage the giant bear she was currently hunting as much as possible.

Eleanor didn't like to take down her prey too quickly. She preferred to see it fight back first.

I sighed and leaned back, bored. This could take a while. Instead, my thoughts wandered. To a conversation I'd had just before we left...

Eleanor had tried to convince Jessamine to come with us—but she had refused. She generally didn't like to hunt out of her normal cycle; she was always testing herself, trying to be stronger, more controlled, and she worried that hunting too often would set her back. She was the one who knew best of all of us the danger of the call of human blood. So maybe that was why I'd wanted to know.

"Jess, can I... ask you something?"

Jessamine looked at me in my memory, curious, taking note of my hesitancy and wondering what it meant. She wondered if I thought I might have offended her with my lack of faith in Patricia and Charles' good manners. "Of course, Edythe."

"This... lure his blood has for me. On a different scale from the blood of other humans. Eleanor's experienced the same thing, if to a lesser degree. Have you...?"

Jessamine considered the question. She tried to hide it, but she couldn't quite—the relief she felt, that she was no longer the greatest point of weakness of our coven.

"No," she told me at last. "Nothing like that. Human blood is human blood."

I stared out at the trees. It must be relatively rare then, whatever it was. That a human whose blood held such a strange allure to me would just happen to come to Forks, and end up in the same small class as I—his luck must be terrible beyond reason.

Eleanor's battle had shifted, moving just beyond a particularly thick collection of trees and shrubs, out of sight. I listened to the sounds of the bear's furious roars below—those roars probably would have sent chills down the spine of a human, but Eleanor was laughing. I heard what sounded like claws scraping across stone, and a few moments later the roars cut off with a gurgle.

Minutes passed, before at last Eleanor reappeared, scaling up the rock wall with ease and throwing herself down beside me.

"Well, that was fun," she said, pushing her thick hair back from her face. "Beast got my shirt though." She showed me the damage to her shoulder. There were parallel rips in the fabric—of course the hard skin beneath was untouched.

She sighed. "And this was one of my favorites, too. Roy got it for me."

"Tragic," I drawled. "I'd be more sympathetic, if I didn't think you could have completely avoided that if you'd wanted to."

Eleanor laughed, leaning back on her arms. "You have to have a bit of fun sometimes. Live a little." She glanced at my perfectly clean white shirt and unruffled hair. "Look at you. Did you ever find that mountain lion you were after?"

"Yes," I said. "I was just a bit more careful about it."

Eleanor shook her head. "You're so boring."

I shrugged. "I go for efficiency over entertainment value."

Eleanor glanced at me. A sly grin flickered across her face, and I saw her intent in time to ready myself. Fast as lighting, she moved to give me a hard shove, but I neatly dodged back.

Eleanor blew out a sigh, exasperated. "Come on, Edythe, just turn it off for a little while. Let's have a fair fight for once." Grinning again, she shifted into a crouch, coiling her muscles as though to spring.

I rolled my eyes. "You know it doesn't turn off, El. Believe me, if there was a way, I would have found it by now." Eleanor and Royal's antics in the beginning of their romance—and at least a decade after—had given me more than incentive enough.

Eleanor sighed and slumped back against the rock, resting her head on her arms. She was suddenly thoughtful. "You know, I wonder exactly what that kid does to keep you out. Maybe it's something he could teach me."

All my relaxed good humor was gone in an instant.

"Stay away from him!" I snarled, turning on her so fast if I had wanted to strike, she couldn't have stopped me.

"Touchy, touchy," she said complacently, hand half raised to calm me down. "Relax, I was joking."

I was silent.

"I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything," Eleanor said. "I know none of this can be easy for you." She added with a half grin, "But after years of nonstop teasing and trying to push all your buttons, some old habits die hard."

She waited for me to laugh. When I didn't, she made a face.

So serious.

I sighed, my eyes dropping to the clearing below. "Sorry. I'm just thinking about... things." I hesitated, then added, "Him. Worrying, I guess."

Eleanor laughed. "What's there to worry about? You are here."

I folded my arms and didn't answer.

She raised her eyebrows at me. "You know, you're going to be spending a lot of time waiting for apologies if you get offended by everything I say. I don't have a filter, you know that."

In spite of my mood, I couldn't stop the reluctant smile that touched the corner of my lips. "I do know that." No one knew it better than I did—my sister, the most tactlessly honest of us all.

I shook my head and sighed. "I guess I can't stop thinking about how fragile humans are. They could get hit by a car... struck by lightning... fall down the stairs... get sick—get a disease. Fires, earthquakes, tornadoes." My voice was getting progressively higher as I rattled off every potential for disaster, getting more agitated by the moment. I suddenly thought of Eleanor and the bear down in the clearing.

"Bears," I added in a horrified whisper, suddenly paling at the thought of a stray bear in town. Knowing Beau's luck, it would probably make a beeline straight for him.

Eleanor eyed me warily. "You know you're starting to sound kind of crazed, right? Like, psychotically paranoid. I mean, lightning? Seriously? What are the chances of that?"

I gritted my teeth, and the thought that had occurred to me talking to Jessamine came back. "What are the chances he would end up in a town of vampires?" I countered. "In a class with a vampire who about goes into a frenzy at the smell of his blood?"

Eleanor shrugged. "Yeah, but we're vegetarians, plus you have more self-control than just about any of us besides Carine. If that had been me sitting in that class, he would have been a goner. So if you look at it in a certain way, the way things happened have been kind of good luck for him."

"And the van?" I challenged. "Was that good luck? I swear, the world is out to get him—that's the only explanation."

"Well," Eleanor said. "It was good luck you were there to save him. Right?"

Maybe I should have stopped, but I was falling into stride now, building up to a rant. "And the worst luck of all," I said vehemently, ignoring her. "Having a vampire fall in love with him."

Eleanor gazed at me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. For just an instant, an image flashed through her mind. She was picturing Beau as she had seen him—a normal human boy. Then it shifted. His skin white as bone, his eyes a bright, glowing crimson...

"No," I said through gritted teeth. "No."

"I really don't see why you're making this into such a dilemma," she said reasonably. "It would solve everything. You wouldn't have to worry about him getting struck by lightning. And half of you wouldn't be wanting to kill him anymore."

"Destroy his life?" I whispered. "Take away everything he's ever known?"

Eleanor shrugged. "I didn't mind so much, did I?"

I let my hands fall, and raised my eyes to meet hers. As a human, Eleanor had nearly been killed by a raging bear in the woods. Royal had come along just in time, killing the bear and carrying her back to Carine to be changed, in the hopes of saving her. Eleanor had never looked back.

"You were going to die anyway," I said quietly. "It's not the same thing. Taking it away from him when there's another choice... You should know as well as anyone not everyone finds this life to their liking."

Eleanor paused. She knew what I meant, and her thoughts shifted to Royal. He had not been so happy at gaining this immortal life, though his human life had also been at an end. Unlike Eleanor, Royal missed his humanity—intensely.

Eleanor shook her head, as thinking of Royal made her think of something else. She was trying to come up with a tactful way to put it, but I already knew the question, so I answered it before she spoke.

"No, El, I can't touch him—not the way you mean."

Not so long as he's human, she finished. And... fragile.

She paused for a moment, staring at me with something like pity. Eleanor and Royal shared an intensely physical kind of love, so much so that Eleanor had trouble separating one kind of love from the other.

If you can't touch him, and he can't touch you... how can you be happy? she wondered. How can you make him happy? No matter how strong your love is, won't it always feel incomplete?

I gazed out over the forest, at the mist curling over the trees. "For myself..." I said slowly. "In the end, it doesn't matter. I would give up anything for him, for his wellbeing. I would make any sacrifice. For him..." My voice dropped to a whisper. "You're right. It isn't fair."

I took a slow, steadying breath. "That's why I need to leave, before it's too late. I know that. But... I just can't bring myself to do it."

Eleanor sighed deeply. "Trying to be noble and selfless kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

I laughed a little at that. "It certainly does."

As I continued to stare out into the forest my mind wandered for a moment, and I remembered again that Patricia and Charles were coming—not that it had ever been far from my mind.

A strange sense of gratification swelled in my empty chest as it occurred to me—maybe it was right for me to leave in the long run, but for now it was surely better for me to remain. He needed someone nearby, to make sure he stayed safe. Someone strong enough to deal with supernatural threats, someone patient enough, devoted enough to stay close by all the time, who never had to sleep...

I was suddenly anxious to be back in Forks, to start right away fulfilling my new role.

Eleanor noticed the look that came into my face. "What?" she said, suspicious.

"I kind of want to go back now," I admitted.

"Oh, I knew it!" she complained. "I knew this would happen. Well, too bad, sister." She seized me by the arm, and I didn't stop her as she twisted me into a headlock. "You are not skipping out and going back early. At least give Roy a chance to cool his head or he'll be sulking all next week."

"I guess... I'll try to stay," I said doubtfully.

"Archie will call if anything's up," she added, gesturing to the phone in my pocket. "He's probably keeping an eye on him, what with all that best friend nonsense." She suddenly grinned. "By the way, are you going to tell me what Roy was thinking that got him all worked up?"

I smiled to myself. "I really don't have the faintest idea."

She shook her head. "You are such a liar. But you're right—if you told me, he'd probably be sulking for a decade. Not to mention you'd have to watch your back, because he might just try to rip your head off."

She let go and leaned back on the rock again, closing her eyes. "You might as well relax, you know. Archie said it's going to be sunny this week, so we aren't even going back to school until Wednesday."

I shook my head rigidly. "Sunday night," I said again.

"Patricia and Charles are good guys," Eleanor said. "The last thing they'll want is to start a fight. They aren't going to touch anyone in Forks, let alone some favorite of yours."

I folded my arms. "Not intentionally. But self-control isn't one of Patricia's strong points. If he wandered off into the woods at the wrong moment..." A shudder rippled down my spine at the thought.

Eleanor nodded. "Or maybe he'll accidentally choke on his toothbrush when he's brushing his teeth in the morning. Or he'll trip over his own shoelaces and hit his head on a doorknob. Yeah, you're right—anything could happen."

I turned to give her a dark look.

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm just trying to point out how ridiculous your obsessive paranoia is."

"Well, you're only reinforcing it."

Eleanor chuckled to herself, shaking her head incredulously. I hate to say it, but I'm really starting to think it might be better if you were institutionalized. Seriously, Edythe. You're starting to scare me.

I stared off into the woods again. I concentrated on trying to relax, but I couldn't. All the possible disasters kept repeating themselves in my mind like a chant. Lightning, fire, earthquake, tornado...

It was going to be a long weekend.

Early Monday morning, I flitted through the woods, on the path that was already becoming far too familiar, to his house.

This time, the voice in my head railing against what I was doing—turning myself into a literal stalker of the worst kind, secretly intruding on his privacy and violating his personal space—was not quite so loud. Apparently, my conscience was becoming desensitized to such things. The Hyde in me would have been proud.

I'd come prepared, and I oiled the window, so this time it slid smoothly and silently out of my way. I dropped to the floor with perfect silence.

And there he was. A powerful, almost crippling relief rushed through me, more than I expected, seeing him there. Seeing him breathing in and out, in perfect health, perfectly safe and not in the least danger.

Except from me, of course.

I sighed, then inhaled deeply. The fire raked through my throat, making my head spin. I had to lean against the arm of the rocking chair, half staggering. Clearly the break from the pain and burning temptation, short as it was, had weakened me. However, I was in control of myself—my mind was my own, and not consumed with monstrous fantasies.

I didn't have much time before the sun would rise and my time would be up, but I sat myself down in the rocking chair, crossing my legs and folding my arms as I settled in to watch him.

He looked... peaceful. His hair lay a little flatter than it had that first night, and I hoped that meant he had slept less restlessly.

However, as I studied his face more closely, I thought I saw traces of exhaustion, too. Like he hadn't gotten enough sleep that weekend. I knew Saturday had been the trip to the beach with McKayla—had he stayed out later after that? Had he spent more time with McKayla? Gone to dinner, gone out driving...

Human feelings could change so quickly. In a heartbeat. Was it possible over this single weekend I'd been away, something significant might have happened? Something that changed everything?

I stared at him, studying his every feature, as if I could somehow read major life events there. He did look tired, his face slightly drawn, but now I was even more certain I had been right at first. His sleep seemed deep and calm, at peace. As my eyes studied him, one of his hands twitched, drawing my attention. I noticed shallow, barely healed scrapes across his palm. No doubt a result of his tripping over something, as usual.

I frowned slightly. I had seen few humans so given to falling down or catching their foot on things. Eleanor had made light of my worries over the fragility of humans, but many humans had died over something as simple as falling down a flight of stairs, or stepping on a rusted nail.

I quickly shook my head—I had already spent all weekend dwelling on the endless potential dangers to which humans were subject, and before long my thoughts returned to the beach trip.

I wished more than ever that I might have gone. It would have been nice to meet him in a completely new setting outside school, to see if it would bring out yet another side of him I hadn't yet seen as we continued our conversation. Unfortunately, even if it hadn't been sunny that day, First Beach was off limits to us. There were old folk among the Quileute tribe who lived there who remembered the treaty we had made with those from a generation passed—those who remembered exactly what we really were.

I felt a chill down my spine. Beau would have been right by people who knew the truth about what I was, perhaps even talked to them—even if there was some part of me that might be on the verge of wanting him to finally know the truth, the thought of him learning it from our mortal enemies set an unpleasant sensation to buzzing at the base of my neck.

I shook my head, shaking the feeling off. The Quileute tribal leaders were bound by the treaty to keep their silence—my secret was safe. At least for now.

All too soon, the sun breached the horizon, and I turned to look at the approaching light with distaste—I didn't think I'd ever been so disappointed at not being able to go to school. Today, the light was my enemy.

Reluctantly, I slipped out the window before it was yet light enough for anyone to see me. I ran swiftly across the open yard, then stopped just beyond the edge of the thick forest, where I would not be seen, but I could still watch him as he left for school.

However, as I sucked in a breath, I was startled to taste his scent on the still, cool morning air.

I turned toward a small path, leading into the forest. The scent was fresh—no more than a day old, if that.

Wondering what he could have possibly been doing out here when I got the distinct sense he wasn't someone all that into the outdoors, cautiously I followed it, growing more anxious by the moment as the trail led deeper into the darkness.

I was someways in when the trail came to an abrupt halt. He had taken a few steps off the trail, into the ferns, and touched the trunk of a fallen tree. Perhaps sat there. The scent was faint, a little washed out, as though it had been raining at the time.

I looked around, trying to see if there was something of interest to have drawn him here, but I saw nothing but trees.

Why had he come to this place? This was not a path he tread often or out of habit, his scent was too faint and recent for that. Had he come out here to think? To be alone?

This was just the kind of erratic behavior I had been afraid of—the pure obliviousness to danger. I had been right to rush back to Forks before Patricia and Charles could arrive. I couldn't leave him alone for a moment. Perhaps he would never know it, but I would make sure he was safe.

As I stared at the place where he had been, trying once again to guess at his thoughts, I suddenly smiled, an ironic smile without much humor, and more than a little self-condemnation.

It killed me, realizing I would probably never know what he had been doing here, as the question wasn't one I could bring up in casual conversation—not without admitting to him I was stalking him to his house and following his scent like a bloodhound. And the fact that it did kill me was totally wrong. That I knew he'd been out here was already an invasion of his privacy—but I wasn't satisfied with that, I wanted to stalk him some more, and excavate more of his secrets. I was the lowest of the low.

I folded my arms. Still, he was in danger so long as Patricia and Charles were in town. He would need silent, invisible protection, just in case. So, following him around everywhere he went wouldn't be the actions of an obsessive stalker so much as those of a...

Protector? Bodyguard?

I smiled briefly at the thought. I liked that. A legitimate reason to be wherever he was.

I suddenly found myself hoping Patricia and Charles might extend their stay.

A/N: Thank goodness for normal-sized chapters once in awhile. The writing in this one was still surprisingly rough when I went over it again (I guess I'd been so worried about chapter 6 in the editing that I'd spent most of my focus on that during previous edit rounds), but hopefully I was able to smooth most of that out. In any case, I didn't want to spend too much time stuck here, in events slightly less important than some of the others coming up.

On another note, I found it a bit odd that Jasper didn't go with Edward and Emmett in the original Midnight Sun. Because Edward talks about having asked both Emmett and Jasper if they had ever felt a similar lure for a human's blood as Edward did Bella in his explanation to Bella later on (as I think Edythe does Beau); I figured this was probably the best opportunity to work that conversation in.

July 2021: Had to cut Jessamine from the scene after all. If SM did ever consider adding Jasper there she might picked up on a detail that I missed, that Jasper (and also Jessamine) is specifically mentioned as being in the cafeteria that day Edythe/Edward is gone. Oh well...

Thanks so much for reading, and for all your comments! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time!

Posted 9/17/18