Disclaimer: Am I Stephanie Meyer? Are you Gandhi? No? I thought not. These characters aren't mine so read the frikken story already! kthxbi

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4,450 miles... The thought was staggering in it's vastness; in less than an hour I would be 4,450 miles away from everything and everyone I'd ever known or loved in the world: the place I'd learned to call home, the people I'd learned to live with, the man I'd grown to love and who in turn had crippled my heart. Now oceans would separate me from those things, and I hoped, very fervently, that somehow, better, greater things lie on the emerald shore of my destination: Scotland.

I would be lying If I said that I wasn't excited, if I wasn't at least a little bit relieved at getting away from the oppressive gloom of Forks for two weeks. I had never been outside of the continental US before, and the idea of visiting Europe was irresistible. As we neared our destination I reread the description of Fort William on the programs brochure:

Hello and Welcome to the International Student Leaders Convention Pre-Travel Handbook. Before you embark on the journey of friendship and self discovery that our program provides, you should know a little bit about your host city! Fort William is the largest town in Highland Scotland nestled lovingly between two great lakes: Loch Linnhe and Loch Eil. It has become a tourist center as of late, known for its wealth of outdoor recreation opportunities such as rock climbing, kayaking, and downhill biking, made only more convenient due to its proximity to Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom. Although the bulk of our program is comprised of partaking in these outdoor opportunities (in order to build both psychological and physical confidence), less athletically inclined Student Leaders will enjoy the thriving cultural centers in Fort William such as the 400 year old brewery, and the many shops in Fort William's pedestrian zone. In conclusion, Fort William has something for everyone whether you are the aspiring sommelier, or the next Edmund Hillary!

Around this cheery description were pictures of what I could only assume were past conventions: kids smiling and kayaking, kids smiling and rock-climbing, kids smiling and sampling some of the wares of the 400 year old brewery. Although the overwhelming happiness of the thing was not exactly my cup of tea I couldn't help but be excited for my trip, finally a chance to forget the past and heal...

"We are now preparing for landing. Please fasten your seat belts, put your tray tables up, and your seat backs in the full upright position. Due to delays we are scheduled to land at 9:00 GMT. On behalf of the crew I apologize for any inconvenience."

My flight had been delayed three hours at Heathrow due to bad weather in Scotland, so now instead of taking a van from Glasgow airport to Fort William with the rest of the students, a Program facilitator would pick me up and drive me individually. This didn't bother me so much as I didn't do well in big group situations, in fact I kind of liked the idea of being one on one with a program facilitator, especially if he was an attractive, young, Scottish facilitator...

I was surprised at my own audacity. To think that just a week ago I would have been physically sick at the thought of being with anyone other than, him - Edward. See! Now I could even think his name without wanting to jump off of the nearest suspension bridge. Maybe Ms. White was right, maybe Forks had been the problem, maybe that was what had been suffocating me all along.

Before I knew it I was exciting the plane and making my way towards customs. Once I had been allowed entry into the country I headed towards the baggage carousel. Despite my excitement I felt a pang of uneasiness clench my stomach. I was one of the .004 of the population who always have baggage problems. Without fail, every flight I had taken had resulted in the loss or destruction of my luggage. On one such occasion I flew from Phoenix to Tucson to visit a family friend and my bag, by some weird sick twist of fate, ended up in Copenhagen. Now, with the pain of that experience still fresh in my mind, I strode, meekly resolute, towards the spinning platform recently enlivened by and orange vested airport worker (I half expected it to start breathing smoke and roaring so great was my fear). To my surprise, my bag was the first to emerge from the black depths of the carousel.

Smiling I checked to make sure my shampoo hadn't exploded or anything had been damaged inside of my bag. All was well, which I took to be a good omen. Tired but happy I walked to the terminal exit of the airport where I had been informed my facilitator would pick me up.

Glasgow was a pretty city there in the twilit fog. All wrapped in mist the streetlamps looked like distant candles, suspended in air like the lights of a fairy kingdom. The air was dense, cool, and damp; fragrant with the smell of early rain. As I stood there in the fog taking in the sights of my new city, I felt a chill run up my spine. Like icy fingertips tracing the crease of my back. The feeling was neither painful nor enjoyable, it simply was. I felt my breathing grow shallow and labored as an unknown fear crept cooly across my skin. What was wrong with me? Who was watching?

I turned around slowly afraid of who I might see behind me.

He approached sauntering with the elegance of a Victorian dandy tempered with the haughty stride of a rock star. He was dressed all in black, from his pointed leather boots to the fedora he wore on his head. Although night had already fallen he wore dark sunglasses.

I wasn't sure whether I should run away, or ask his autograph and volunteer to mother his child. The closer he got to me the more I seemed to lose the ability to think clearly.

"Hello," he said smiling wickedly and removing his fedora in a stately gesture more suited to 18th century Britain than the present situation, "I could only hope to assume that you're Miss Isabella Swann?"

His voice was silky and definitely English. His face was sculpted and clear, almost gaunt, but again in the attractive rock-star kind of way. He smelled of smoke and something else altogether to pleasant.

I gulped and looked around stupidly, as if there were any other Isabella Swanns in the vicinity trying to avoid looking at him for fear of betraying my obvious attraction.

"Ummm yes, yes that's me."

"Good then," he said standing up from his bow.

I don't know how I knew it, but even behind his dark sunglasses I could tell that he was looking me up and down. Even more surprising, I didn't mind.

"I'll be driving you to Fort William, but before we do that I must have a fag. I haven't had one all day you see, and as I'm a terrible dirty addict I simply won't be able to function properly without one, so if you wouldn't be terribly offended-"

"A fag?" I asked incredulously. I knew Scottish culture would be different, but I was really hoping that his idea of a fag and my idea of a fag were not the same thing.

His smile grew wide, so wide that in spite of myself I felt my own face turning out an awkward grin.

"A thousand pardons Miss! I suppose a fag to you yanks would be a cigarette." He chuckled as he took out a small box, "And after that long flight of yours I'm sure you could do with one yourself."

"No thank you. I don't smoke."

"Suit yourself love," he said holding a cigarette paper between perfect and clenched teeth.

I watched in amazement as he deftly and quickly rolled the cigarette, something that until now I had only seen happen in movies. After completing this task he balanced the cigarette on his lip while searching his pockets for a lighter. He then proceeded to light the cigarette and inhale deeply, eyes closed all the while, luxuriating in the pleasure it gave him.

After what seemed like hours he finally exhaled looking out into the night sky, his face unfathomable. I felt myself blush as he looked at me, smiling in satisfaction, obviously noticing the fact that I had been staring at him the entire time.

"So, Isabella Swann. That's a very pretty name you know."

"Thank you."

As he continued to smoke I studied his profile. The refinement of his nose, the raven colored stubble along his chiseled jawline, his neck, the hair shaggy and unkempt swept effortlessly across his forehead. I longed to remove his glasses to see if his eyes were as beautiful as the rest of him...

"So where are you from Miss Swann,"

"What-", he had caught me staring again.

He laughed.

"Let me tell you what; you are obviously tired. Why don't I take you to coffee before we head out? That way I can have another cigarette and you can perk up a little. I can't stand driving with sleeping people...unless of course" he extinguished his cigarette with a small cough, "That person is sleeping with me."

I stood in shock, first due to his open flirtatiousness, and furthermore because he lifted my massive luggage onto his shoulder as if it weighed no less than a bag of flour. He looked much to thin to be as strong as he was. He then took my hand and grinned.

"I know the perfect place."

A/N: Please Please Please review! Sorry for the long update. I was in NYC for 10 days so I didn't really have time to write...but the more you guys review the more motivated I am to write. Just think of reviews as like the spinach to my Popeye OK! Bring on the Spinach!!

xoxox

Elle