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I look to the sea and shore, to Edward's distant perfect figure, anywhere but at Carlisle. I have always been such a terrible liar. I am certain he will know the truth the instant I make eye contact.

Finally, I have no choice.

Will they ever forgive my deception? I can only pray they can. I cannot further it any longer. I don't have the strength or the lying ability.

"Yes."

The pain of the admission leaves me feeling oddly hollow. Not so much empty as filled with an unfamiliar insubstantiality. It's almost like being a balloon blown to popping.

Strange. I am stretched too far, for once. Maybe chasing Edward was a good idea. After all, at least there's a little variety in the pain.

He spins to look at me. "Bella, why did you leave Edward? I thought…"

They all believed him. How could they all believe him? I thought they knew me better than that.

If they believed him, will they be able to believe me? Can I convince them I'm not a traitor when I am so clearly a liar? How can I regain the trust of my family? Will they still want me, even in the far-fetched event he does?

"I didn't."

There's a moment, and then his eyes widen. There is no doubt there. I suppose he does know me just as well as he knows Edward… and he knows which of us is more likely to be able to live without the other.

"Oh. Oh, dear God, have mercy…"

His prayer is unanswered. This is another reason I doubt the existence of anything eternal. If He existed, wouldn't He have ended my life by now? Would this pain be possible?

But I am not one to question anything anyone believes. After all, I believe the most ridiculous of all things- that Edward loves me.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. That he could do that… twice… Bella, know this. He loves you."

"Does he?" My voice sounds pitiful even to myself with the frailty of the hope.

"There isn't time for me to ask what happened. This is not the place. I have to know, though, how you were changed."

A strange question, given the hundreds of others he could be asking in this odd circumstance. I wonder if it could give some clue to my desired answer.

"The Volturi. I couldn't wait… I need to tell him. I have to tell him."

"Of course."

"Wait… who are we running from?"

He avoids the question, neatly sidestepping the information he so clearly doesn't want to divulge.

Instead, he gestures toward the waiting vampires. I sigh, wistfully wishing I had a little more time. Just one more clue. Just one more day. I can't bring myself to trust even Carlisle's faith in the impossible.

And yet I had to. I recognize in myself that I will never have enough trust in my own desirability.

Plus, I have little choice. Carlisle's going to be thinking of nothing else, now.

Well, here goes nothing…

I walk towards him as slowly as possible, at a human pace, like I could still trip over the perfectly flat sand.

Stalling, obviously. My intention is ludicrously apparent, even to myself. I am trying to put this off. I do not want to have to admit I lied to him. I do not want to leave him. Even less do I want to risk him leaving me, because that is the one thing I will not survive. Once, twice, but a third time is impossible.

"Edward."

He turns to face me, and I feast my eyes for what may be the last time. He has every right to forbid me from his presence after this. I cannot expect as gentle a response as I received from his father, especially if the probability he doesn't love me is true.

Oh, I could look at him forever! He is perfection embodied. Although it is night, his skin is radiant, not sparkling, truly, but shimmering like the sand and moon. The soft gleam does not succeed in distracting me from the angular alignment of his features. Symmetrical, sized evenly, placed ideally, each one beautiful, forming an even more perfect whole.

Perfect.

It is the best word to describe him.

Perfect.

It is what I will never be.

Even the change has not granted me the one thing I hoped it would. I prayed the venom could do the impossible. I wanted it to make me worthy of him.

To be that, I would have to be beautiful, and pure, and loving, and intelligent, and unwavering, and… perfect.

And I cannot be.

Why, if I cannot have it, must I desire the impossible?

I want to kiss him. I remember the taste and sensation of those lovely marble lips, cool and smooth as glass, gentle and hard, sweet…

His hair, almost human, still exceptional.

And the eyes I will soon share, but his are so much more than mine will ever be. They express a deep soul, one so alive and beautiful. Beauty I know exists.

"Yes?" His voice completes the momentary heaven. It is rich, deep- no, endless. I could hear forever truth in the echoes of it, and echo it does, on and on over the water and into my heart.

I'm stalling again.

I may as well do this quickly, like ripping off a bandage. I spend a brief minute stalling, then go for the fastest approach. I take the wig Alice all but welded to my head and yank it off.

My hair tumbles free. I turn away for an instant, unlace the corset-like contraption underneath my shirt, and allow that too to fall to the soft ground. Another Alice invention. "Jacob" apparently had a particular taste in shirts- those loose enough to cover the tight binding over "his" chest.

I am making up distractions, stalling with my internal chattering sarcastic monologue. Basically, I'm wasting time. Because I don't want to say what needs to be said, what I can see he recognizes, what is the truest thing in the world and also the most painful.

"I'm Bella," I whisper, "and I love you."

"God!"

The single syllable is utterly unexpected. I admit I expected either an undying declaration of love or looks of bland disgust.

"Oh, God."

This time he only whispers. I cannot turn to him. I cannot ask him what he means. When he is ready, he will tell me.

Waiting again. It always comes back to waiting. I will believe whatever he says next.

I will always believe him. However, this is critical. My whole life, my possible death, hangs on this next word. Whatever he says will shape my life. This time, will he accept my love? This time, does he want me?

There are no clues in his eyes. They are flint, hard, cold, empty. I cannot determine whether they are a mask or a true reflection of darkened heart.

"Bella."

I listen to that perfect voice. This was the goodbye I wanted. His voice is golden on my name, and it breaks, full of pain, or perhaps passion. Something. When he thinks of me, he feels something.

"Edward?" I whisper. He doesn't look up.

"Oh, God." He sinks to the sand, kneeling. He clutches the grains although his life depends on keeping them close. They run through his long, delicate fingers, and he grabs more. He bends his head toward the sand, hiding his beauty from me… but I suppose it is acceptable After all, it is his choice, always, whether or not he wants me. I would never try to keep him unwillingly by my side.

"Oh, dear God. Forgive me. Bella, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," I murmur, unsure if he's really addressing me. He is.

This provokes an almost-violent response. His hair is whipped back by the force of his head turning toward me. His eyes are full of fury. They glisten like his skin in the sunlight, lit by the force of his anger.

"Nothing? Nothing!"

"Nothing."

"Bella. Just look what I've done!"

"What?"

I honestly couldn't understand his guilt. Yes, he'd taken much from me. But he'd given so much more, and that was more than I could ever deserve. Even if he loved me for one day and tormented me for all eternity with his absence, I was gifted beyond imagining.

"I cannot keep my promises. I'm a liar. An oath-breaker. Not just a killer, now, so much worse. I promised you I'd never leave you… and I did. Oh, I'm so sorry."

I am mildly confused by this, though I cannot muster up any strong emotion- his fury at himself is far too engaging. He is so alive, and I am bound to that life in ways I cannot begin to explain. He is vibrant, and I for so long have been so empty.

"Don't be, Edward."

"Why? I'm unforgivable. I can't ask for your love."

That's it. The final piece of the puzzle. The words I want more than anything else. The beautiful hope, fragile still, but building some legs to stand on.

"Do you… love me?"

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