Yes! (Pumps fist in air) Your wonderfully nice reviews have given me enough of an ego boost to put this up as fast as I could.
Disclaimer: Sadly, Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, not me.
Chapter Two:
An Odd Place for Coincidence and Destiny to Meet
Now, imagine New York City; the towering buildings surrounding you on either side, the classic landmarks you've only seen in movies, and the endless stream of people. It was easy, almost effortless, to get lost in this city, and that's why Bella had chosen to live in its automatic namelessness.
She stepped out of her apartment building, one of those extremely private ones that have no doormen to remember who goes in and, probably never, comes out, also most likely inhabited by crime lords and heads of the mob, and onto the curb, thankful for the tall skyscrapers to provide a constant source of shade. Even on the sunniest of days, it was possible to sidle along the shadow of a structure and be untouched by the rays of the sun. Sometimes you had to look up to even have a clue as to what the weather was like, and Bella found that very endearing.
It was late December, several months after the incident that had taken place in Washington, and the shops were decorated with their finest displays. While walking to the New York Public Library, she would gaze at the beautiful ornaments and scenes that were assembled lovingly together. Along with the warm feeling that settled in everyone around Christmas, she also felt that unwelcome stab of loneliness. Bella looked down to her wrist out of habit and felt the ache grow without the reminder of her long gone family.
But it was better this way. Others of her kind didn't necessarily share her eating habits, or at least the ones she had met did not. Considering the delicate circumstances of her rebirth, as she liked to think of it, it was better if she kept to herself, though. Stay quiet and cause no trouble; do nothing to get noticed. Spend your time in perfectly ordinary places, like community colleges, parks, and, her favorite, libraries, and don't do anything to draw attention to yourself.
Avoiding those who sought her was a top priority in Bella's life. She had properties all over the world to run to in a moment's notice and enough bank accounts to let her blend in with those who surrounded her. The one thing that was permanent to her was her name, and she was thankful that they had never found it out because, now that her bracelet was gone, it was her only tie to the time before.
Her current identity was simplistic; she was a girl of rich family, not at all unusual to find in New York, who volunteered at the library. It was boring enough for no one to ask follow-up questions, and not even the most forward of people could break through her careful exterior of complete aloofness. She liked it, too, which was always a plus to any new life. The quiet that seemed permanently engraved in the shelves of the library was calming and she was a useful worker who knew the Dewey Decimal System like the back of her pallid hand. Bella thought that she was so below the radar that no one would suspect her of anything other than being reserved.
Funny that with all her precautions and careful planning, Edward had found her.
It had taken countless hours of computer hacking, but Edward had finally been able to track down his elusive neighbor. Anticipation at seeing her, hearing her voice, and, in his most treasured daydreams, holding her, had been foremost on his mind all this long time. He had schemed all through summer and spent autumn acting like nothing life changing at all had happened to him; he did excellent in school, was captain of the baseball team, tutored two kids in piano, and was the epitome of pleasant charm to his parents.
But always, Bella was the forefront of his mind, constantly plaguing him since the day of the storm, and his want, no, need, for her grew as the days and weeks and months passed. Sadly, he could do nothing but wait, and, finally, the opportunity presented itself.
His father was a very successful lawyer in the Seattle area, and with his family wealth and giving nature, he was well known for giving generous donations to various causes. In Chicago, Edward Senior's hometown, a cancer foundation was holding a dinner party, and seeing as his own father had died of it, he was eager to help them. Elizabeth understood the importance and wished to accompany her husband, but, there seemed to be the problem of their son, who was far too young to be stuck in a formal banquet. But, then again, they thought to themselves, he has been so mature lately that we could trust him to be alone for a long weekend. And it was the winter holidays; he wouldn't even need to worry about school.
That's it. Problem solved. Edward was to stay home and tend to the house while his parents went to Chicago.
Not if his plan was to work though. While they were on their flight, Edward packed, bought plane tickets on the internet, called ahead to make reservations at a cheap hotel, and made special care to disconnect the phone lines. Later, when he was in the airport terminal, waiting in line for a quick meal at McDonald's, he called his now frantic parents, who had phoned home and found that the line was dead. Edward lied smoothly and convincingly, telling them that there had been a storm and it must have messed up the phones. He put special stress on how they should just call his cell phone from now on, to avoid the trouble. It was so easy, and went so neatly into place, that Edward couldn't help but congratulate himself.
Edward felt as though he were on some sort of crusade to win the heart of his mysterious Isabella. In his mind, everything had to be right; he needed the proper timing, the right words and the Grand Gesture. He didn't exactly have the Grand Gesture yet, but he was sure he could improvise when he got there. One thing he was sure about, though, was that he had fallen, hard, and he didn't even want to get up.
But it seemed that things only got more difficult after he stepped through security at JFK. The only things he really knew about his mystery girl was her name, the fact that she worked at the New York Public Library, and that she might have a secret that he had normally believed only possible in fairy tales. Even with his extensive skill with computers, he had been unable to find her address, and New York was a very large city.
Again, Edward was forced into the unhappy occupation of waiting, which was next to torture when he was so close to finding her again. He had woke up early and bundled up for the freezing weather, making sure to stop at Starbucks for coffee before he assumed his post on the steps of the library, leaning against one of the stone lions. His eyes searched the crowd eagerly as he sipped his drink, feeling the warmth seep through his body and cursing the snow that had started to fall from the sky.
Perhaps it was luck, maybe it was fate, or it could have been simple coincidence that Bella just happened to arrive soon after he sat down and that Edward was there that day. They didn't see each other at first, the sidewalk was very crowded in the early morning stampede to work, and they were on different sides of the wide stairs, but they were so close.
It was Bella who noticed him first. His hair, such a unique combination of reddish-brown, had caught her attention, and she was plunged into thinking of the boy who had tried to rescue her, something she was worried to find her thoughts straying to more and more frequently. Bella thought is was a trick of her mind at first, but no, it was the same boy as before; a year older, a few inches taller, and he had lost some of the boyishness in his face, his cheekbones more prominent, his jaw chiseled, but she could still see her neighbor who risked his life for her.
As if he felt Bella's gaze, the boy turned to look in her direction and froze. After months of searching for ways to introduce himself and start a conversation, this is what it had come to; a chance meeting on the steps to a library. He had just wanted to see her and make sure he was here, but now all his careful research on what the best flower shops were, and how he would send them to her, was obliterated.
They were caught in a warped kind of staring contest, neither knowing what to do or say, but both wanting some kind of contact, some confirmation of what had happened before. Edward felt his body move without realizing it, walking slowly to where Bella was standing. All that was running through his mind was how she hadn't changed a bit and he could still hear the phantom whisper of her voice in his mind, like music as it asked how he was.
Bella broke out of her daze and ran, seeing that things could turn troublesome if she stayed any longer under the power of his too green eyes. She didn't run as fast as she could, that would be suspicious; she needed to move as frail as she looked, and she had depended upon the crowd to hide her. Maybe he would be so stunned that she could gain a good head start. What Bella hadn't taken into consideration was just how fast the boy was as he wove his way through the people behind her.
He hadn't dithered in chasing after Isabella; he felt that if she were to disappear from his sight he'd loose her all over again and would be forced to start all over, tracking her to another city. No, this was the time, this was the place; on a dirty and crowded street in New York City. Edward reached out and grabbed her stone wrist, surprised by how easily she broke his hold and sped ever so slightly up.
Determination filled his blood and Edward pushed himself harder, full out sprinting toward her. Making another grab for her arm, he called, "Isabella!"
That seemed to catch her attention and she slowed slightly, turning to look over her shoulder, not even glancing toward where she was going, and instinctively correcting him. "It's Bella," sounded her voice, more like she was singing than stating a simple fact. Suddenly she stopped, making Edward run two strides past her before having to turn around and walk back, his breath coming out in quick gasps of air while she remained perfectly composed. "How did you know my name?"
The fact that she wasn't running away again caused him to grin crookedly with relief and joy. His mind was starting to stitch his plans back together to form this new situation, glad that he could salvage some pieces. "We were neighbors, remember?" He didn't need to feel insecure to if she recalled or not; he could see it in her, now wide with disbelief, golden eyes. "I'm Edward. Edward Masen."
Her full lips twitched up as she said, "Yes, I know. We were neighbors, remember?" Then she composed her face again, one of careful indifference, and something occurred to her. "Did you follow me here?"
The strange part of her question was that she wanted him to say yes, that he had trailed her. Bella looked into his emerald green eyes and couldn't find any rhyme or reason to this insane thought, just that when he looked at her like that she felt like they were alone in their own little universe. She watched him look down at the ground, a light blush spreading across his pale face, in embarrassment. It was several moments before he could meet her eyes again and he couldn't find any other explanation than a simple "Yes, I did."
Edward's heart soared when he didn't see disgust, but delight grace her angelic face. He ventured a step further, and was surprised when she did the same, closing the distance between them. Even in the calamity of smells and sounds, he could smell the wonderful fragrance that clouded around her and she could hear his heartbeat as it speeded up into double time. Time stopped as they studied each other's faces, wondering why it had all of a sudden seemed so vital and important to memorize the other. Edward leaned even further in and reached out, taking one of her hands in his gloved ones and pressing it to the side of his face, mesmerized by the silky feel of her skin.
It was heavenly for Bella; the warmth, the trust in his eyes, the feeling of complete serenity that spread through her. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her, embrace who she was, and what she is, with that gentle expression never leaving his face. She wanted to tell him everything, to give herself to a person she barely even knew. She wanted…
But it couldn't be about want. She knew what she needed; to get away from him. He had somehow found her, and now he, as well as anyone else who would try to get close to her, was in danger. Grave danger.
Bella whipped her hand back, shocking the blissful tranquility off Edward's face. She floundered for words to erase his painful expression, but the best she could come up with was, "Oh, Edward. I don't mean to keep putting you in jeopardy. I-I'm sorry. Please believe me." Bella gave him one last look, trying to remember but not fully understanding why her heart told her to, then turned away and ran.
Edward was so surprised he couldn't move at first. But the certainty that she was going to walk off the face of the earth again put his feet into action. "Bella!" he called, even now thinking how well the name suited her over Isabella. "Come back!" He pushed harder, flying down the street and pushing away anyone who was in his path. But no matter how fast he ran, she was still gaining distance, the top of her chestnut hair bobbing further and further away.
He didn't know how long he kept going. After he couldn't see her again, he continued, telling himself that she was just around the corner, right ahead of him, but she never was. She just vanished. Again.
But what did I expect? he thought furiously at himself as he achingly made his way to a stoop, breathing like a race horse. I basically stalked her. It wasn't as if she'd come up to me and be happy that I'm some creepy kid who wouldn't leave her alone. I'm stupid, I'm insane, I'm weird, I'm…still going to try.
But first thing's first. He was in a city he had never been in, obviously far away from the only landmark he could use to locate his hotel; the library. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and opened it up. Damn, it only had the frighteningly low amount of four dollars and twenty three cents. Before he could plunge, yet again, into a pit of despair, Edward looked around and saw a bank, glowing like a prize on a game show, like the gates of Heaven, like Bella's eyes…
No. Mustn't think of that. Not now.
He sprinted across the street, earning a healthy number of curses and middle fingers in the process, and came crashing in through the bank doors like he owned the place. It was rather empty so he managed to slide into a pretty good spot behind a woman who was telling her little boy to stop licking the line dividers.
Plan wise, Edward could only be certain that he needed cab money. Any thought of what came after swirled and faded into the realm of uncertainty, where finding Bella again was the same chance as playing poker with Bigfoot. Thoughts of his original plan of sending flowers might work, but he felt that he ought to check if she was still even in the city. Or the state. Or the country, for that matter.
His thoughts strayed over to what she had said, before she left. How could she possibly put him in any peril, though? Unless what he had suspected was actually true, another thing he shouldn't think about but did anyways, then he had no reason to be cautious around her. Right?
Before he could delve further, the loud bang of the entrance door slamming open caught his attention. Everyone in the bank looked over their shoulders with, first idle curiosity and annoyance, then fear and panic. The man, dressed in black from head to toe with a ski mask that only let people see his murky blue eyes, had a gun, and from what Edward had seen on the news, this never amounted to a good thing.
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" barked the man as he hefted up a large gun that looked like it belonged in a Bruce Willis movie. Then, in what Edward assumed was normal bank robber etiquette, the man's eyes swept across the frozen people as if he were weighing them as enemies, Edward couldn't help but notice how the man's eyes lingered on him, and said, "Don't make any wrong moves."
Like it was opposite day, the woman Edward had been waiting in line behind promptly started shrieking as she clutched her little boy to her. "No! Don't hurt me and my baby! Please, I'll do anything!" she wept.
Though his slim sense of self-preservation ordered him to stay quiet and unassuming, his chivalrous tendencies could not be suppressed. He half-turned and faced the hysterical woman, gently grabbing her wrist and saying in his most sweet voice, "Ma'am, if we cooperate and keep quiet, I'm sure he wouldn't harm you or your child. Don't worry; the cops will be here soon enough." He had tried to say it softly and not draw attention to them, but when he looked away again every person in the bank was looking at them, the other bank-goers with compassion, the gunman with agitation.
He stepped toward Edward, his steps measured and menacing, but Edward stood tall, not letting the fear that was seeping into his bones show on his face. He quickly found the muzzle of the gun digging into the chest of his thick pea coat, and the gunman sneered with smugness as a ripple of dread made Edward's body shake. "What did you say kid?"
But Edward's mouth had gone dry, seeming to sap all motion out of his jaw. Before the silence could stretch out any longer, though, the woman let out another yelp. "Leave the boy alone, you monster!" she screeched. "Just take what you want and leave!"
The gunman was surprised, Edward could tell. His eyes flickered about him the people around him, all angry, all hating the very core of his soul. This wasn't how it was in movies; people were supposed to quiver with fear at the sight of him. They weren't supposed to fight back. Hoping to regain some of the fear he had obtained before the boy started talking, the man pointed the gun at a more fragile target; the little boy in the crazy woman's arms.
Edward seemed to know what he was thinking from the desperate look that crossed the man's covered face. He couldn't feel the muzzle in his chest any longer and he saw the gunman shift at the torso, turning toward something that had just started to helplessly cry in his mother's arms. Only one thought was racing through Edward's mind, He's going to shoot the boy. It was the first time in months that Bella was not in his thoughts, and if she had been, he might not have done was his body had instinctively started.
It was a quick movement, born from many baseball games and friendly competition with friends. He jerked from his still, and safe, position, to taking one long and fast stride to the gunman, his hands reaching out deftly for the gun.
That speed was what made the gunman turn back to the green-eyed boy's direction. He had seen a sudden movement and was startled. He hadn't even meant to shoot anyone; not at the beginning as he plotted in his crappy apartment. But, despite of that promise to himself, his finger tightened on the trigger, and a deafening blast exploded in the room moments before the guard came back from his break and tackled him to the floor.
Edward fell to the ground with a thud. He was aware of the blood, trickling out of that spot in his chest that felt like someone had decided to fire a cannon at his heart. He could hear the voices, the panic, the screaming. A voice, far away and fading fast, was yelling for an ambulance, but he couldn't open his eyes to see if it was the woman, like he thought it was.
With a tremendous amount of pain, Edward inched his hand, which had been lying helplessly beside him on the ground, into his left pocket. After more stinging effort, he managed to pull a cool, chain from it. He felt it with his fingertips, trying to imagine the letters inscribed in the heart-shaped charm. This was his only link to Bella, and his last. He had screwed everything up to play hero.
He could last remember the ceiling of the ambulance before he was in a state of semi-consciousness, flocculating between the painlessness of the dark to a brilliantly lit and achingly agonizing room he couldn't recognize. It was blinding; white with a light as bright as the sun right before his out of focus eyes. Cold and soothing fingers probed his upper body, but they offered little relief to the torture.
Then there was another black patch, and it was sweet relief.
It ended too soon, bringing back all he had thought he had left behind. He pushed past the distracting pain and could hear the slow and steady beat of a machine, smell a sterile clean and, when his eyes adjusted to the light, see a man with eyes as golden as his hair in a white doctor's coat.
I am sad to say that I may not update as fast as I would like to now that school has started up again. But, never fear, I fully intend to use my free time to write up new chapters for you lovely people.
Until next time.