A/N: I really hope you're not going to hate me after this chapter, because you'll have to wait for Bella's reaction just a little bit longer! This chapter was really difficult to write, mostly because of Edward's POV, so I hope you'll like it. While writing it, I mostly listened to Florence and the Machine ("Howl"), just in case you want to know how to get you in the mood! ;-) Sorry if they're any mistakes, but it's late, and I'm tired and I wanted to post it before I got to bed. I'll read through it again tomorrow; hopefully it's not too awful.

I got so many reviews last time, which I'm still very happy about, so thanks again, and keep them coming! ;-)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

7. DISCOVERIES

EDWARD

No.

A little word, yet it seemed to consume—no, devour my entire being, leaving nothing but cruel, empty darkness behind.

No.

I flinched back. The picture fell from my hands, a young Native American whose name, I remembered finally, was Jacob Black smiling up at me. I wanted to tear my eyes away from it, away from the lines of the letter. I couldn't.

No.

I'd left to keep her safe. I'd left and put myself and my family through so much pain so she could live happily ever after, could have that kind of family I would never be able to give her.

No.

I didn't hear Jasper on the stairs. I didn't even hear him enter the room. His mind—as consumed with pain and despair and vast, black emptiness as my own—didn't make sense to me. I felt his hand on my shoulder, heard him calling out to me, yet I couldn't move, couldn't even acknowledge his presence.

"Edward?" he said as he shook me. "Edward, what's wrong?"

I turned my head—slowly, as if I'd forgotten how to move—to see Carlisle rush into the little room, alarmed by Jasper's troubled voice. I saw my own face in his mind, blank and empty and dead, and his fear as he realised he'd seen that expression before—the day I'd asked them to leave Forks, the day I'd left my family. He glanced at Jasper, who shook his head, then around the entire room, trying to determine the source of my agony. He didn't want me to suffer. He didn't want me to leave again.

He didn't want to lose me.

His gaze fell upon the tiny wooden figurines on the dresser.

He stepped closer, eyes widening in surprise. I wanted to raise my arm, wanted to yank him back—he mustn't know, mustn't know that everything I'd done had been all for nothing—yet it wouldn't obey. Helplessly I watched him pick up one of the tiny, beautifully carved figurines, a part of him admiring the craftsmanship even as he took in the familiar yet unexpected scent, and even I could sense his curiosity as he asked himself the very same question I had. Why would a vampire have these? In a moment he'd know what I'd done, and panic welled up in my chest. I had to stop him, I just had to but I couldn't move.

That moment never came.

"I'm sorry," he said, put the wooden wolf back on the dresser as carefully as he'd picked it up, and turned, his expression sympathetic. He assumed the familiar stench of werewolf had woken painful memories. I felt hysterical laughter bubble up in my chest and fought to choke it back down. Carlisle never even saw the blue box, not consciously, and the relief was unbelievably overwhelming. He thought he knew what had prompted my reaction, but he didn't.

He didn't.

Jasper's thoughts, which suddenly began to make sense again, were puzzled. He didn't know what to make of my strange emotional state—dread and despair followed by overwhelming relief—and glanced at Carlisle, who quietly shook his head. He'd explain later.

"I'm sorry," he said again and put his hand on my shoulder as well, trying to comfort me. "Let's go. Jasper can wait for the vampire. You don't have to stay."

"No," I said, suddenly able to speak again. "I'll wait. I'm just as curious as you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I tried to sound as reasonable as possible, even forced a smile on my face. It was impossible to fool Jasper, but Carlisle believed I had myself under control again. He was glad I'd volunteered—he thought I spent far too much time alone in my room—but he didn't like the idea of leaving me alone. "Jasper," he began, but Jasper quickly shook his head. He wanted to get as far away from me as possible. My emotions were depressing him. He didn't put it quite this way, of course; he knew Carlisle would have disapproved. "Maybe Esme could keep you company?" he suggested eventually.

"I believe she has an appointment this afternoon," I said. Esme had been asked to restore an old building somewhere south of Anchorage, and knowing my mother she probably wouldn't be back until sometime late tonight.

"I'll call as soon as I've talked to her," I promised, and Carlisle, who found himself out of options, had no other choice but to give in.

I didn't accompany them back to the car, but I did follow them outside to see them off. When they had disappeared between the trees, I turned to face the house again. I didn't know why I'd insisted on staying. Yes, I was curious. But what did I expect to happen? Nine excruciating years I'd stayed away, believing I'd done the right thing and trusting she was living happily ever after just as she deserved—for if I didn't, then what was the point of me leaving her, of tearing my family apart, of so much pain?

And now… Now she was a vampire, the very thing I'd never wanted her to become. I'd left to make sure Alice's vision of the future would never come true, but I realised now that the decision to change Bella had never been mine to make. Alice… I frowned. I'd asked her not to look out for Bella's future, but she wasn't able to block it out completely, never had been, so she should have seen something. Why hadn't she? If she'd known—if I'd known—I might have been able to stop it.

Nine years of pain and despair and misery. All for nothing.

"Bella," I whispered. I realised, of course, what this meant, what it could mean. We could be together again if only she'd take me back. Would she? Would she still want me. I'd told her I didn't love her anymore, a lie, but necessary at the time. I'd told her that I loved her a hundred times, yet she'd believed the lie so easily. And what if she'd fallen in love with someone else as I'd meant her to?

I walked back to the front of the house, which was tucked neatly into the forest, almost as if the trees had reached out to embrace it. The wooden gate and part of the dark roof were visible from the street; you wouldn't see the house itself, not really, unless you knew it was there. The perfect home for a vampire. In front of the gate I paused, right hand on the handle; the old woman who lived across the street was awake now and peering out her kitchen window, watching me. I pressed the handle down, and the gate swung open, squealing almost inaudibly. I half-turned and caught a glimpse of blue eyes in a thin face framed by white hair; her mind was sharp and clear despite her obvious age. Seeing my face, she smiled. I quickly averted my gaze, leapt up the front stairs, two at a time, and disappeared behind the trees.

A lovely young man, she thought kindly.

I snorted. Neither 'young' nor 'man' were attributes I'd ever apply to myself, let alone 'lovely'. I turned, knees already bent to launch myself up and inside through the open bathroom window again.

It's about time she had a date, poor girl.

Bella's face appeared in her mind so unexpected I cringed as if I'd been tasered. I crumpled to the wet ground as my body went limp, and buried my head in my arms, fists clenched. I didn't breathe. I couldn't. Her face, oh, her face was just as breathtakingly beautiful as I remembered it, yet it was different. Her features were perfect. I couldn't detect a trace of her face's former human imperfection I'd loved so much. Her cheeks, which were pale as ice, would never blush, would never betray her emotions again. And her eyes… Her eyes, once brown and gentle, now golden and bitter, so bitter. Her expression, although she was smiling in that woman's memory, was sad, sad and empty, and in her expression I suddenly recognised my own which I had seen reflected in my family's minds a million times. I'd destroyed her life. I'd allowed myself to love her, and I'd killed her. If I hadn't, if I hadn't given in, she'd still be alive. Alive and happy and well.

No, a tiny part of my mind insisted, she wouldn't. She'd have been dead for almost ten years, crushed to death by Tyler Crowley's van in the school parking lot.

Eventually, I managed to stand up, slowly as if my body wasn't sure how to execute the movement properly, as if I'd been thrown off-balance and hadn't yet regained it. I leaned into the wall for support, pressing my forehead against the cool stone, which didn't feel cool to me at all. I didn't know when Bella would return, how much time I'd have to figure out what to do, what to say.

At least, and I almost smiled as overwhelming relief washed over me once again, she hadn't murdered those women. Her golden eyes were proof of that. I knew how hard it was, saw how hard Jasper still struggled to resist the temptation of human blood, even after all these years, and I was glad—and proud—that Bella had chosen to follow our lifestyle.

However, if she hadn't killed those women, then who had?

I had to call Jasper and Carlisle, tell them what I'd learnt so Jasper could begin his search anew. It was the responsible, the right thing to do. But I didn't. I couldn't tell them whose house we'd broken into, not yet. I wasn't ready to face their disappointment. Would they be able to forgive me for what I'd put them through? Would I be able to forgive myself? Tell them, I told myself, and just get it over with. Alice already knew, had probably seen me tell them at some point in the future—and I had to tell them eventually—and I couldn't ask her to keep secrets for me.

My cell phone chimed. I knew it was Alice before I'd even slid it open. Who else could it have been? I read the message she'd written and felt my heart swell with gratitude. I didn't deserve a sister like Alice, didn't deserve her kindness, not after how much I'd hurt her. I won't tell them until you're ready, she'd texted. I'm so sorry I didn't see it. I'll be home in the morning. Tell her I love her. No, I truly didn't deserve Alice's kindness.

I climbed back inside. I was tempted to return to her bedroom at once and read the letters which would hopefully tell me more about the years we'd spent apart, but I forced myself to be thorough. I picked up the white blouse again and pressed the fabric against my face. Her scent was different, less human, yet I was able to detect a familiar note now that I knew it was hers, and it was just as tempting, but in a very different way. I tossed it over the towel rack, then opened the small mirror cabinet above the wash basin. It was full of things you'd expect to find in there, things you'd find in each or our bathrooms as well. An extra toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash, dental floss, moisturiser and washing lotion, band-aids, Tylenol, and even a boy of tampons. Props, of course. She didn't need any of these items.

I decided to take a look at the first floor before reading the rest of the letters. Jasper and Carlisle had shown me what they'd found, but I wanted to see for myself. However, there wasn't much to see. A small TV and a black leather sofa with matching armchairs took up the corner farthest from the stairs, and white shelves lined the walls, yet every single one was empty. A door to my left led into the dining room that opened into the kitchen; the appliances, of course, were new and unused. Every single room was nicely furnished. In fact, Esme couldn't have done a better job. And yet something was missing. I glanced at the blank shelves, the blank walls. No books, no pictures, no personal items whatsoever. The entire first floor, and also the entire second floor, I realised, except maybe for that box of letters and the boxes I'd found in the spare bedroom, held absolutely nothing which would tell a visitor much—anything, in fact—about the life and the past of woman who lived here; it was almost as if she didn't have an identity, as if she didn't exist, not really.

The inside of the house, just as the outside, was in perfect repair. The walls had been painted recently, the banister and the white shelves revarnished, and there wasn't a single divot in the polished hardwood floor. It was perfect, and yet a strange sense of loss, of emptiness suddenly befell me, which I couldn't shake and which, for once, didn't have anything to do with my own feelings at all.

I returned upstairs, anxious now to read the letters. As I went by the study my gaze fell on the neatly stacked piles of medical books and journals I hadn't paid much attention to before. I knew most of them; you'd find them in Carlisle's extensive library as well. Were they hers? Did she work in the medical field? Was she a doctor now? The thought made me smile. A doctor. Where had she gone to school? What had she specialised in? Had she made the right choice? Was she happy?

And then my smile fell. No, she wasn't. I'd seen it in her eyes in that woman's memory. Whatever she did now, whatever her life was like now—it didn't make her happy. She'd built a future for herself, a future that had fallen apart when she was changed. She couldn't work as a doctor anymore. Not after so short a time as a vampire.

If only I'd never allowed her into my world.

I searched the rest of the study, drawer by drawer, file cabinet by file cabinet. I found her diploma which I placed gently on the empty desk, and in the bottom drawer a tiny MacBook that hadn't been used in a very long time; it was an older model, and it was covered in dust so thick the silver casing was nearly invisible. I flipped it open, anyway. I didn't find much on it, though, mostly e-mails and not very many. Having located the printer, which, too, was sticky with dust, underneath the desk, I printed them out.

I shut the door behind me when I left the room.

In front of the bedroom I hesitated. I didn't know when Bella would return, and I wanted to read the letters before she did, but I didn't know if I'd be able to return, if she'd want to see me again, and I wanted to learn as much about her as possible.

I opened the door. It wasn't very late yet, but it was already growing dark, and only a faint ray of fading daylight illuminated the little rooms. Removing the old tape, I opened the boxes one by one, and here they were. Finally. Her belongings. Books I'd seen her read, clothes I'd seen her wear, things I remembered from her little bedroom in Forks. And her scent, her human scent which still clung to them, was still intact, a scent I'd imagined so many times, but my memory hadn't done it justice.

I had her back. I could have her back if she still wanted me.

And if she didn't… Wasn't it arrogant of me to assume that she'd come back to me? I'd left her, lied to her, told her I didn't want her anymore. Why would she take me back?

Sitting amid the pieces of Bella's past I wondered, not for the first time but without brushing the thought aside again at once, if I'd made a mistake. So many things had happened. Things I'd never wanted to happen. Things that might not have happened if only I'd stayed.

I sat there for a very long time. When I glanced out the window again, the sky was black, and I made myself stand up. The letters, I reminded myself. I took her battered copy of Romeo and Juliet; I couldn't make myself let go of it.

Back in her bedroom I carefully emptied the box on the bed, dozens of letters, most of them written in Jacob Black's untidy scrawl, and literally hundreds of pictures tumbling onto the blue bedspread. I set the letter I'd read before aside, the reached for the next and unfolded it. It was just over two years old, the oldest I realised, and from a woman called Olivia. Bella, she wrote, where the hell are you? Linda said you quit! Why would you do that? What happened? Linda's been trying to contact you. She's called your father at least half a dozen times, and that friend of yours, too. Jacob, right? They said they didn't know anything. Please let me know you're alright. We miss you terrible. Love, Liv. I suddenly remembered the name from the e-mails I'd printed out earlier; in fact, almost all of them were from Olivia, too.

The next letter was from Charlie. Bella, what's going on? Where are you? Jake told me you quit! Why would you do that? Why aren't you answering your phone? Please call! I'm worried. I love you, Charlie. I swiftly went through the rest of the pile, arranging the letters in chronological order to establish a timeline, then began reading again.

Apparently Bella had lived in Pasadena up until two years ago, then she'd quit her job and left, disappearing from the face of the earth for an entire year. I assumed that's when she was changed. Most of her first year as a vampire, I deduced from a letter Jacob had written, she had spent wandering around; then she'd settled here. She seemed to have broken off contact to her father but apparently had stayed in touch with Jacob Black, which the leader of his pack didn't much care for.

I focused on the pictures then. I found one of Bella and Charlie, arm in arm, at high school graduation, Bella wearing the most hideous yellow robe. Still human, her cheeks flushed as always. Most of the pictures were of Jacob Black and his pack, people I didn't know or had only briefly met, people Bella seemed to have become friends with. It didn't shock me as much as it should have that she'd befriended a pack of werewolves even though thinking about the danger they'd posed to her made a shiver run down my spine. Bella had always been a magnet for trouble—I should have known that removing myself from the equation wouldn't keep her from getting into potentially life-threatening situations.

My Bella.

No, she wasn't mine anymore. I had no right to call her mine.

A car pulled up outside. I hadn't heard a car outside all day, and while I didn't know if it actually was Bella my breath caught in my throat again. I forced myself to take a deep breath, then another one and another one, trying to calm down. It didn't work. "You can do this," I told myself as I darted down the dark hallway, but my voice didn't sound very convincing, not even to myself.

I quietly slipped out the open window into the cold air and leapt into the spruces which hid the house from view. Their twigs didn't so much as rustle as I swiftly climbed up as far as the tree would allow. When its top began to bend under my weight I stopped. I pulled up my knees, supporting my weight with my right hand; the left carefully parted the now snow-clad branches half in inch, just enough for me to see a sleek black Porsche parked against the curb. I whistled quietly. For someone who'd once driven an ancient chevy this was quite an improvement.

Then again I didn't know a single vampire who didn't like driving fast.

The car was dark. I saw the silhouettes of two people, one obscured by the headrest of the seat. The the passenger door opened. The old woman climbed out of the car, her white hair like a bright beacon against the black sky. She held on to the frame as she took a very unsteady step. The ground was wet and slippery, and she was concentrating very hard on not falling down, but her gaze swept across the interior of the car, and I saw her face again, Bella's beautiful pale face, and her eyes, black as pitch. I saw her eyes wide in alarm and her hands tighten around the steering wheel, then the woman turned, and Bella disappeared from my view.

Finally Bella stepped out of the car as well. Her body was tense, her expression anxious. I frowned, parting the branches a little further as if that would enable me to read her face properly; her silent mind was still a mystery to me. She closed the door and went to the back of the car, all the while glancing at her house like an animal that's been trapped. She'd have smelled me, of course, and Carlisle and Jasper's lingering scents, too, but there was no need to be afraid. She could defend herself now, couldn't she?

She carried her neighbour's grocery bags inside, two at a time, always careful to maintain the human facade. The old woman was worried as they exchanged their goodbyes. She'd noticed that Bella was nervous, had been since she picked her up earlier, and she was wondering if she should invite her to stay for dinner; she didn't like the thought of Bella alone in that old house at all. However, Bella had already declined several invitations, and she was afraid to ask again. She didn't want to appear rude

I watched as Bella crossed the street, and with every step she took, her movements became slower as if she had force herself to move at all. Reaching for the gate, she froze entirely, yet only for a second, then recoiled. A feral hiss tore through the quiet of the night, and my eyes widened in surprise. What was going on? For a moment she stared at her house with no expression at all, her pony tail bobbing violently in the wind—I realised, with a shock, that it was her I'd seen at the hospital this morning; why hadn't Carlisle noticed the presence of another vampire, so close to him?—then pushed open the gate, leapt up the steps, unlocked the door and darted inside.

I followed her. She hadn't switched on the lights, yet in the purple of the night I saw everything as clearly as in broad daylight. I crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise, but when I heard a strangled sound I rushed into the bedroom as quickly as I could. And there she was, no more than five feet from me, her back to me. She had to know I was standing here, had to be aware of my presence, and yet she didn't move at all, didn't even breathe. She wore clothes that fit her well, matched her pale skin and dark hair. Her figure was more womanly then I remembered, fuller, and her hair was longer, too, and a richer brown.

She spun in a movement so quick it didn't exist, legs apart and knees bent, arms half-raised in front of her, a position of self-defence, yet fear twisted her beautiful features, fear so intense I flinched back. Why was she so scared? What was wrong?

She stared at me, her black eyes anxious. Then surprise, astonishment even, swept across her face and her fear away, her features, however, betraying her emotions only for a second, before her expression went blank. She didn't relax. Instead she wrapped her arms around her chest like iron clamps, the movement automatic as if she'd executed it a hundred times, as if she did't even think about it now, her black eyes staring at me.

She didn't say a single word.