A/N: Thanks again to all of you reading along. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to really respond to reviews last chap, but the wifi I'm "borrowing" while on vaca is super spotty. I'm definitely reading all of them and love hearing your thoughts! I'm posting this chap now with the hope of getting another one up either Thursday or Friday when I return home to reliable internet.

Big thanks & love to my own personal dream team: Char, Gin, Caren & Ash - they help make my words purdy and my ideas not suck so bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just come up with random things for them to do.

Edward

I'm standing in front of my closet, holding a sweat-soaked button down shirt in one hand while I look for another one to put on. I'm still not certain what happened to me at lunch, but it's left me shaken. I shiver, as a cool breeze whips over my damp skin and walk over to close the window that's somehow been left open. As I walk back to my closet, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I frown, seeing a dark mark near my shoulder.

As I get closer to my reflection I realize it's not dirt at all, but rather a tattoo. I squint at the black ink, and it jars a memory.

I'm sitting in a red leather chair with a muscular man looming over me, a vibrating needle in his hand. My eyes are closed, but I can feel a surge of warmth in my hand. I crack open my eyes and look down to see a smaller hand in mine, squeezing me back. I try to crane my neck to see who the hand belongs to, but something prevents me from doing so. Then the fiery pain of the tattoo needle is so great that the memory slips from my mind, and I'm suddenly back in my room, staring at myself in the mirror.

I swear that my shoulder still feels tender to the touch when I look at it again and trace the treble clef imprinted on my skin. I close my eyes once more in hopes of seeing the person who's hand I was holding, but it's blank...a black chasm of nothing.

I toss my shirt across the room in frustration and fall back against my bed. For some reason, I think of Bella, and I wonder how her afternoon is going. I cant imagine it being any worse than this. Defeated, I walk back to my closet and select a new, clean shirt and finish buttoning it up before walking back and sinking into my chair. I notice my red notebook sitting on the side table, where I must have tossed it when I came back in. I pick it up, flipping through the pages.

On the first page I notice my own handwriting and pause to read.

Music Therapy - 4pm - Meeting Room B.

I glance over at the clock to see that it's quarter to four. I flex my fingers instinctively as I think about getting to play a piano. My body seems to know what to do even before my mind because I soon find myself walking out the door and heading down the hallway. I note each door as I pass, happy to see that they are labeled, and soon I come across Meeting Room B. The room is empty except for a black baby grand in the back. I have no idea if I'm waiting for somebody or not, so I walk over to sit at the piano. The bench feels hard and cool beneath me, and I adjust myself until I feel comfortable.

My arms lift as my fingers flex over the keys. I stare down at them, the alternating rectangles of white and black almost mocking me. And then, I play. My fingers move on their own accord with no help from my brain. I'm not even sure what tune I'm playing, but it sounds beautiful.

It sounds familiar.

I stare at my fingers as they fly across the keys, creating the beautiful music that pours from the piano. I feel light, calm and strangely energized. Testing something out, I allow my eyes to close, and yet the music keeps coming with no interruption. I open my eyes and watch in amazement as my fingers slow down and the song draws to an end. For a brief moment, the room is eclipsed in stillness, and my rapid heartbeat is the only sound I can hear. Then, loud clapping breaks through the quiet.

"That was wonderful, Edward. I'm surprised by the Bach, but it was stunning. Simply stunning."

I turn around to see a man in a dark pair of slacks and a maroon sweater vest walk in. He has a folder in one hand and a pen in the other. He drags a folding chair up to the piano and gingerly sits down in it.

"How are we today?" he asks as he flips through the folder in his hand.

I'm immediately turned off by his question, not liking his use of the 'royal we.'

"I am fine," I say, stressing the singular.

"A little testy today, Edward," he chortles, and I fail to see the humor in the exchange. "Did we see Bella today, perhaps?"

I bristle at his assumption and inch back from him slightly. How the hell does he even know Bella?

"Remind me of your name, please," I ask brusquely.

His left eyebrow raises almost imperceptibly, yet I still note the reaction.

"I'm Dr. Volturi, of course. Dr. Aro Volturi, Edward."

I nod as if I remember and twist around so I'm facing the piano again. Before I'm able to try and block out Dr. Volturi and play some more music, I feel the cool slickness of his skin upon mine as he stills my hand.

"You can play in a moment, Edward," Dr. Volturi explains to me like I'm a five year old. "But first, we need to do a little bit of work."

He holds up a stack of flashcards and has me look at them. They don't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and I'm not quite sure why we're doing this.

A blue bird.

A red ball.

A black book.

A gold ring.

I freeze at the last flashcard and ask him to pause for a moment. He does and looks at me curiously, as if he's about to ask me something, but ends up keeping quiet and just watches me intently. My eyes fixate on the picture of the gold ring, and immediately, I start thinking about Bella. There is something about her, something that draws me to her, that makes me want to know her in so many different ways. I have no idea why this picture makes me think of her, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to figure it out.

My head is suddenly throbbing, pulsing with pain. My fingers shoot up and start to massage the temples, and I can barely nod when Dr. Volturi asks if I'm okay. Once the headache passes, he shows me a few more cards and then he invites me to play some more music. He moves off to the side, allowing me space and freedom at the piano. I close my eyes, unsure of what to play, but just like before, my fingers find the keys and the melody pours out.

This time the music starts off slowly - quietly, even. My eyes close, and I find myself playing for somebody in my mind. I can see her as clear as if I'm looking at a painting. She's in the middle of a room, clothed in a stunning white dress, but her face is, of course, hidden from view. She sways in time to the music as it gets louder...more bolder. The notes are like emotion spilling across the keys. The song whips faster and faster until I'm pounding out against the keys, sweat beading up on my forehead. And then slowly it subsides, the notes seeping back into the piano.

My body is buzzing when I am done; my hands clammy and shaking. I finally lift my head up when the sound of applause crashes the silence and look to see that the room has been filled with people, all staring at me intently. A few people are wiping their faces, tears having spilled down their cheeks. I'm not sure what to do with myself, and I look to Dr. Volturi for some sort of cue.

He's staring down at the flashcards in his hands, shaking his head. He catches me looking at him and replaces the cards in his folder.

"We can continue with this tomorrow, Edward. Why don't you stay and play for everyone?"

I nod, and turn back to the piano, eager to lose myself in the music once more.